


The Start of Something New

by OnstageSport



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Also I changed quite a bit to make it work, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, High School Musical AU, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, The AU you didn't know you wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnstageSport/pseuds/OnstageSport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin Price thought he knew who he was supposed to be, but then he met Connor McKinley and he finds that he might be a little more open to expanding his horizons than he originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lodge

**Author's Note:**

> The ski lodge where Troy and Gabriella met was in Salt Lake City and spoopymormon-helldream on tumblr jokingly demanded a High School Musical AU.
> 
> I deliver.

“No, no, I can’t sing!” Kevin protested as he was dragged onto the raised stage and handed a microphone. He wasn’t even planning to _be_ at this party but his parents insisted that he stop shutting himself in and enjoy being a teenager for one night at the ski lodge. For a week, if it hadn’t been studying scripture, which he already practically knew by heart anyway, it was trying to better his basketball-shooting ability to lead his high school team to victory. But his parents insisted that he be a teenager for their last night before heading home, which was how he’d ended up in this mess to begin with.

The only comfort was that the kid that the emcee had selected to sing with Kevin, a boy almost as tall as him sporting a shock of red hair and the bluest eyes Kevin had ever seen, somehow looked even more reluctant than he was. Surely it couldn’t have been the crowd’s attention that made him uncomfortable since he was wearing a shirt that was practically made of sequins. A shirt like that just screamed ‘look at me.’

Kevin’s protestation went ignored and the instrumental began as soon as the redhead got a microphone shoved into his hand. Kevin stared out to the crowd; most of them were just milling about and enjoying the party, their attention hardly focused on the couple of boys about to sing. They probably hadn’t even noticed. Even so, for Kevin Price, singing solo in front of a crowd was more intimidating than he would like to admit.

He almost missed the first line since he was so wrapped up in his internal panic about singing in the first place. Almost. He had to speed through the first half of it in order to end on time, but he didn't miss it. He finished his verse, a little shaky but all in all not _terrible_ , and then Redhead started the next one. Kevin eyed the boy suspiciously when he started to sing—there was no reason to have been all coy before when he had a voice like _that_. He was almost envious. Almost.

By the time they were halfway through the chorus, both a little more comfortable with each other in spite of being complete strangers, Kevin realized that they were singing a love song. And yet, he found that he didn’t even really mind singing a love song with another boy. He supposed it was because Redhead’s energy, now that he was getting into it, was infectious. So much so that Kevin didn’t even care if he was singing well anymore. He didn’t care that the crowd had gathered and was actually paying attention to them now. He was enjoying himself. And when the song ended, he almost wanted to do it again. Almost.

“Kevin,” he introduced, holding out his hand with a smile. Redhead took the offered hand, finally giving Kevin a name to go with the face: Connor.

Together, they departed the lounge in need of fresh air and the crisp December night did the trick. The pair chatted about inconsequential things—homework the school assigned over break, it being a nice night, that they were both kind of hungry—before their conversation came back around to their singing.

“You’ve got to be a singer, right?” Kevin guessed, but Connor shook his head.

“Some musicals when I was younger. But mostly just church choir,” he admitted. At this revelation, Kevin quirked a brow. Maybe he’d made too quick a judgment about Connor's...interests, but it seemed to him that Connor wouldn’t _quite_ fit in with any of the churches he knew.

“Church?” Kevin repeated, half out of shock and half curious to learn.

“Yeah!” Connor beamed at him, all too eager to share this part of his life with someone. It was like practice for his future mission. “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints!”

“Wait, really? You’re a Mormon?”

Connor’s face fell at Kevin’s reaction. They were in Utah so it shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. Over half the population in Utah was part of the Church so it couldn’t have surprised Kevin too much.

“Oh, yeah. It, um, it’s the fastest growing religion in the world and-”

“Whoa, whoa, you don’t need to try to convince me to join a church I’m already a part of,” Kevin laughed. “I was just surprised _you_ are.”

Connor frowned at him, apparently confused by the statement. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation of why he didn’t seem like a Latter-Day Saint. Luckily for Kevin, the chanted countdown to the new year started just in time so that he didn’t have to explain the judgment he'd passed.

“See you around, I guess,” Kevin shrugged with a smile as the countdown reached ‘one’ and a firework display went off to ring in the new year.

Connor agreed and pulled out his phone, passing it off to Kevin with the request to put his number into it. Kevin hesitated slightly before ultimately deciding ‘why not?’ and passing his own phone to Connor for him to do the same. They returned the phones to their respective owners and Connor disappeared before Kevin could even look up and say goodbye.


	2. The Reunion

A week passed and Kevin returned to East High School. The entire student body bustled with enthusiasm uncharacteristic for the return to school. The other members of the basketball team greeted their fearless captain and exchanged pleasantries before parting ways to their homerooms, planning to reunite during their free period.

Kevin spent the minutes before the late bell chatting with Arnold Cunningham, who wasn’t so much _on_ the basketball team as he was a proud bench warmer. Kevin had this theory that his father, the coach of the team, had enlisted Arnold as a favor to Mr. Cunningham to force Arnold into socializing with other kids his age. It seemed to have worked since he latched to Kevin and was jabbering away with him until the bell rang.

Kevin was so distracted by nodding along to the excitable chatter spewing forth from Arnold’s mouth that he didn’t notice a new student enter the room and take the only available desk in the room. However, when he turned around to face front, it was impossible not to notice a head of bright orange hair barely three feet ahead of him.

“I trust you all had a wonderful break!” enthused the head of the English department and the theatre group leader, Mrs. Brown. “There are sign up sheets in the lobby for oodles of new activities.” She grinned at them. Some of the students groaned, knowing that she was about to plug whatever production they were planning to do in the following months. “ _Including_ our spring musical. We’re going to have singles auditions for our supporting roles and pairs auditions for our two leads.”

At this information, a pair of boys a few rows away, Jacob Grant and Jacob Brown, shared a smile. They had been the leading male roles in the school performances for as long as anyone could remember (for 10 years, as they never let anybody forget). Kevin, however, was more interested in the boy with the flaming hair. Surely it couldn’t be…

Kevin didn’t even hear the rest of the clubs Mrs. Brown promoted since he was focused on subtly pulling his phone from his pocket and texting underneath his desk. He sent a quick ‘Hi?’ to the number that Connor had provided him on New Year’s Eve. A three-note tone sounded and the redhead frantically reached into his pocket to silence his phone. Across the room, other students do the same, apparently taking this as a reminder to silence their phones.

“Ah, the cell phone menace has returned,” Mrs. Brown chastised as she pulled out the plastic basket that the student population so affectionately referred to as ‘phone prison’ and headed down the rows to collect them, to be returned after school. “Jacob, _Jacob_.” She tutted at her son as she confiscated his phone. “I’ll see you both in detention.”

She moved over to the next row and stopped in front of the new redhead, who stared up at her, mortified. This was clearly not the first impression that he wanted to make.

“We have a zero tolerance policy in class here, so we can get to know each other in detention,” she smiled genuinely down at the boy who places his phone in the basket along with the Jacobs’. Mrs. Brown took a step towards Kevin before turning back to the new student. “Oh, and welcome to East High, Mr. McKinley.” 

She confiscated Kevin’s phone since it was involved in the mishap, giving him detention for the involvement.

“But that’s not possible!” Arnold tried to defend his best friend, standing at his desk. “See, we’ve got practice and Kevin’s like our Gand—”

“Shh, shh, shh, Mr. Cunningham. Please,” Mrs. Brown cut him off, shaking her head at him before giving him fifteen minutes of detention as well. 

From the seat next to Arnold, a tiny blond commented under his breath about how the only way for Arnold to count how long it had been was to assign the minutes to characters from _The Hobbit_ , which prompted Arnold to correct that there had only been thirteen members on the original quest, so there.

“Chris Thomas, fifteen minutes,” Mrs. Brown cut off Arnold again, punishing Chris for his antagonizing Arnold. The blond gasped at getting the same punishment as the people who had _actually_ disrupted the class when all he’d done was comment on it.

Mrs. Brown made her way back to the front of the class, set down the basket of phones, and stood with her hands on her hips.

“Come on, people, the holidays are over! Now, are there any more questions, comments, concerns?”

The students glanced around at each other, none of them really sure that they wanted to engage further. Then, slowly, James Church raised his hand and, upon being called on, asked, “How were your holidays, Mrs. Brown?”

Every other student groaned at his sucking up to her. Luckily the bell rang, indicating that it was time for their first class so they avoided being bored with the details of the Brown family vacation.

 

Kevin was one of the first to leave, but he waited outside the classroom door for the red-haired boy who he thought he would never see again. Student after student filed out with no sign of Connor. When he finally exited, the last student to do so, with a school map in his hands, Kevin quickly strode to get beside him.

“Hey!” he greeted in disbelief.

“Hi!” Connor beamed at him. What were the odds that they would meet up agin like this? “Well, isn’t _this_ something!”

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed with a nod. “But…how?” 

He knew for certain that he had never seen Connor anywhere in the school before. He may not have paid _too_ much attention to people outside his friend group, but he knew that he would have remembered someone with such a distinct look.

Connor explained, “Oh, my mom got a transfer from Provo to here.” He grinned shyly at Kevin as he changed topics with a small shrug. “I looked for you at the lodge on New Year’s Day.”

Kevin told him in hushed tones that his family had left early that morning, which he’d found stupid since they lived in the same city where the lodge was.

“Why are you whispering?” Connor laughed. 

Kevin looked around the hallway, scanning for any of his friends among the students. When he saw that they had all moved on to their first classes, he sighed. He could speak pretty freely to Connor without having to worry entirely about ruining his reputation.

“Well, uh, my friends know about the basketball and the studying The Book of Mormon, but I haven’t told them about the singing thing. …Or you.”

Connor’s face fell but he knew he shouldn’t have been disappointed. A couple of Mormon boys singing a love song in front of a crowd was hardly what either of them could consider bragging rights.

Seeing Connor’s expression, Kevin quickly changed tactics and assured him that, “No, no. It was cool. But, you know, my friends, it’s…it’s not what I do. That was like a completely different person.”

Connor turned the corner and Kevin strode to match his pace. Connor paused, staring at his map to make sure he knew where he was going.

“So, uh, now that you’ve met Mrs. Brown, I bet you just can’t wait to sign up for that,” Kevin declares, prodding at the advertisement for the musical, _Tinsel Town_ , written and composed by student Nabulungi Hatimbi.

Connor laughed and shook his head. As much as he would really love that, he had decided to be a little less…flamboyant in their new town. As much as he wanted to say that his mother’s business was the only reason for their move, he knew that it had just as much to do with the fact that everyone back in Provo thought he was a homosexual and that just embarrassed his parents.

“I’m just going to get to know the school,” he excused, shaking his head. “But if _you_ sign up, I’ll come watch the show.”

“Ha, yeah, that’s impossible,” Kevin laughed. There was no way that he was going to sign up for the musical.

Suddenly, Jacob Grant appeared beside them, a little too close to Kevin for comfort.

“What’s impossible, Kevin? I wouldn’t have thought the word ‘impossible’ was even in your vocabulary,” he smiled broadly. 

Connor noticed that the boy’s demeanor was very near flirtatious and he had to wonder if there was a certain reason that boys who liked boys were attracted to Kevin as if by magnetism. (Not that _he_ liked boys, not that he liked _Kevin_ , not that there was any validity to the rumors in Provo. He just wondered.) But Kevin seemed almost oblivious to Jacob’s flirting.

“Oh, were you going to sign up too?” Jacob asked Connor, turning after signing the names ‘Jacob G and Jacob B’ under the dual auditions in letters big enough to allow for maybe one other duo to sign up. Before Connor could even open his mouth to explain that he wasn’t about to, Jacob was talking again. “Jacob Brown and I have starred in all of the school’s productions since we were in first grade, and we really welcome newcomers in the ensemble.”

“Oh, no, no. I don’t really do that anymore, theatre I mean. I was just looking at everything going on. There’s a lot here,” Connor smiled cordially at Jacob Grant before commending his penmanship and starting down the hall, eager to get to class and more importantly away from a boy who was…like that. He couldn’t let himself get dragged back into it. Not when he'd come so far in turning it off.

Kevin turned to follow him, wanting to catch up with his new friend since he was heading in the same direction anyway. Unfortunately, Jacob Grant decided to tag along.

“So, how does the best Mormon in Salt Lake City spend winter break?”

“Oh, you know…reading The Book of Mormon, playing basketball…more reading The Book of Mormon.” Well, it would have been too rude to tell him to go away, so Kevin just responded as cordially as he deemed necessary.

“You really are so dedicated,” Jacob beamed up at Kevin, who nodded. As long as he was agreeable, this conversation would be over sooner rather than later. “So, you’ll come see me in the musical, right?”

“Sure thing.” It was a promise he didn’t really intend to keep, but Jacob hardly needed to know that, especially since that promise was what ended the conversation.

 

While being the coach’s son put extra pressure on Kevin to always perform at his optimum levels, it did come with some perks. For instance, the entire team was allowed to use the gymnasium unsupervised when they had a free period granted that the majority of the team could practice at the same time.

Through some miraculous scheduling (or Mr. Price just pulling strings with administration), the majority of the team had the same class period off, which they were implored to use to their advantage since their championship game against the West High Panthers was coming up in two weeks time. If both Prices were completely honest, they would need some work in order to beat them.

Those who shared that free period warmed up in preparation to run drills. Some members of the team stretched while others practiced on their own or in pairs. Kevin paired up with Arnold, tossing the basketball back and forth, so that he could strike up a conversation as subtly as he knew how.

“So, that school musical thing…You know you’ll get extra credit just for trying out?”

Arnold shrugged, passing the ball right back. He wasn’t particularly well-versed in anything that Mrs. Brown said. He didn't really listen.

“And…And Nabulungi wrote it,” Kevin added, knowing that Arnold harbored a not-so-secret crush on the girl and hoping that that might seem like a good enough reason to try out. The mention of her had apparently taken Arnold’s head out of the mentality for catching the basketball since it bounced to the floor to his right. It rolled several feet before Brian Davis passed it back to Kevin.

Although the conversation hadn’t included him, James Church, who had been stretching on the floor beside Kevin, interjected with his thoughts since Arnold was incapacitated and no longer responding.

“Look, Karl Malone and John Stockton were never in their school musicals.” He stood up and shook his head. “Kevin. The music in those shows isn’t…It’s show music. It’s all costumes and makeup. It’s…it’s _spooky_.”

Kevin faltered, shifting the ball in his hands. He hadn’t expected support in making a decision about whether or not to audition, but even with no expectations, this was disappointing him.

“Yeah…I just thought it’d be good for a laugh, you know,” he shrugged. He looked around at his teammates before leading them in drills. “Okay, pair up, let’s go.”

They ran increasingly difficult drills and plays for most of the remainder of the class period, allotting enough time for them to shower and change back into their usual clothes before their next class. It wasn’t a _lot_ of time that they practiced, only about half an hour, but every second counted, even if their so-called fearless leader was distracted for the entirety of it. Maybe no one noticed?

“Hey, buddy, what was going _on_ out there?” Arnold asked as he got dressed, pulling his jeans. “Your head was like…” He mimicked an explosion by the sides of his temples. “ _So_ gone.”

Kevin sighed as he tugged his shirt back over his head. So much for no one noticing.

“I was probably just tired,” he shrugged, not about to admit to his friends that he had been thinking about auditioning for a _musical_ all because he had become inexplicably drawn to singing because of an exuberant red-haired boy. That just…wasn’t him. At least not the him any of them knew.


	3. The Detention

“So, it seemed like you knew Kevin Price,” Jacob Grant accused Connor sitting down beside him in a science class that they shared. Connor thought that that was a little rude, no greeting, no introduction, nothing. Plus, they were supposed to be working on an assignment, not talking about Kevin.  
  
“No, not really.” Connor shook his head with a kind smile. “He was just showing me around.”  
  
“Well, Kevin doesn’t usually interact with new students.” Was…Was Jacob trying to ward him away from Kevin? It certainly sounded like he was.  
  
“Oh, no I’m…I’m _not_ ,” Connor started, shaking his head again, this time more fervently. It had only been one day at East High. People couldn’t already think he was gay. That defeated the whole purpose of learning to turn it off (and of moving) in the first place.  
  
Jacob frowned at him in confusion, his brows knitting together.  
  
“Yes, you are? A new student?”  
  
Connor faltered. Right. That was true. He was a new student. He couldn’t believe he leapt to the defensive automatically.  
  
“Oh. Right. Yes. I am,” Connor confirmed, turning his grimace into a smile.  
  
“Well, it’s nothing but basketball and The Book of Mormon with Kevin, so,” Jacob warned with a shrug and a tight smile. Now it was getting painfully obvious that he didn’t like Connor being friends with Kevin—even though that’s all they were, just friends. And barely that, more like acquaintances who had just happened to share a ~~magical~~ moment when they first met.  
  
Connor sighed, determined not to make an enemy of Jacob Grant. He returned to the assignment and frowned.  
  
“That should be sixteen over pi,” he mumbled before raising his hand and bringing this to their teacher’s attention.  
  
“Mr. …McKinley,” she said checking the attendance sheet, “I’m very sure that’s impossible.” She punched the equation into her calculator only to find that Connor had in fact been correct.  
  
Jacob narrowed his eyes at Connor in suspicion of his mathematical prowess.

 

Although Connor had said that his main focus was getting acclimated to the school, the audition sheet was all but calling to him. Every time he passed it, he slowed to see if anyone besides the Jacobs had signed up. Each time he checked there were a few other names added below Jacob’s writing, but Kevin’s name was nowhere to be found. Not that he really expected Kevin to have signed up for the musical, he was just curious.  
  
Little did Connor know that Kevin was doing the same thing whenever he passed, stopping to check for Connor’s name and moving along when he saw that it was absent. The only way he was going to sign up for a musical was if Connor did too. Which wasn’t gay, because he wanted to have a friend in the musical and Connor would be the only one who would be a semblance of a friend. It wasn’t a _gay_ wish, just a wish for companionship in a new clique.

 

Connor trudged himself to Mrs. Brown’s classroom for the detention that he still couldn’t believe he’d received. On his first day of school, no less! When he arrived, he found a lined paper taped to the door that pointed him in the direction of the auditorium to serve his punishment.  
  
He arrived in the theater with a bizarre sense of belonging, which he crushed back into the well from which it had come. Getting involved in theatre again would do nothing but cause him to regain the reputation that he had changed school districts in order to escape.  
  
Looking around, Connor determined that he must be the last of the offenders to arrive. That realization didn’t help to quell the already-uneasy feeling in his stomach about having gotten a detention at all. However, he was sure that Mrs. Brown would let him off the hook since he was still unfamiliar with the layout of the school and therefore had a difficult time finding the auditorium at all.  
  
At least, she would have let him off the hook if she even noticed he was there. She was bustling about on the stage, flitting from juvenile to juvenile to inspect their work on the set. Connor caught sight of Kevin, the only face that he could really put a name to, painting a painfully thin and obviously wooden tree with his friend from that morning.  
  
Without an assignment of his own, Connor made the decision to just stick close to Kevin since he knew him. He climbed onto the stage but before he reached the fake tree, the short blond boy from homeroom all but bounded over to him, holding papers Connor assumed were reference images for whatever project he had been assigned to complete.  
  
“The answer is ‘yes!’” He exclaimed, causing Connor to look around in confusion as there was no way he could be talking to _him_ , right?  
  
“I’m sorry?” he asked, needing a lot of clarification.  
  
“Our scholastic decathlon team has its first competition next week,” the blond boy grinned up at Connor, “and there is _certainly_ a spot for you.”  
  
It was at that moment that Connor caught sight of what the papers actually were: articles. About him. From Provo. It was nothing embarrassing since no one would ever think to publish the shameful rumors about him but even so the articles about his being a mathematical prodigy were not anything that he wanted to take with him to Salt Lake.  
  
“Where did you get those?” Connor demanded, nodding at the papers.  
  
“Didn’t you put them in my locker?”  
  
“Definitely not,” Connor assured, shaking his head rigorously. This information didn’t seem to faze the other boy, who insisted that if Connor join the team.  
  
“We meet every day after school.” The puppy-dog eyes made the already-short boy seem younger and nearly impossible to refuse. “Please?”  
  
It was nearly impossible but not entirely, though Connor did feel a twinge of guilt when he turned down the offer with the excuse that he needed to catch up on the curriculum before he so much as thought about joining extracurricular activities.  
  
“Well, what a perfect way to get caught up,” beamed Jacob Grant, who Connor was fairly sure had the ability to appear out of thin air. “Meeting with the smartest kids in school. What a _generous_ offer, Chris.”  
  
Connor looked between the two boys—to Jacob in suspicion of his involvement in Chris’s acquisition of the articles, and to Chris in slightly uncomfortable longing to have a group to belong to— and gave in to the pressure to join the decathlon team with a small shrug. After all, what was the worst that could happen?


	4. The Team

Although the rest of the basketball team had assembled in the gym and was running warm-up drills on their own, Coach Price had not officially begun started practice because his star player was missing. When twenty minutes had passed with no sign of Kevin (and, slightly less importantly, Arnold), then Coach Price started to get irritated.  
  
“Guys! Where’s Kevin and Arnold?” he demanded, looking around at his team. The boys looked at each other, unsure of how quickly to answer if they were going to respond at all. Coach Price then got deathly quiet, the calm before the storm as he stared at each of them icily. “Don’t make me ask again.”  
  
Again, he was met by silence from his team.  
  
“We only have two weeks to the big game,” he stated to impress upon them the importance of their answer, “so WHERE’S KEVIN?”  
  
“Detention!” James responded squeakily as soon as the yelling started, cringing away from his coach. When he realized that the way he had reacted was out of the ordinary, he tried to brush it off as though nothing had happened though he could see the concern washed over his friends’ faces. The teammate closest to him, Middala Odoki, gently reached out a consoling hand and patted his shoulder. If they hadn’t been about to get in trouble for Kevin’s absence, the rest of the team would have joined in.  
  
“They have detention with Mrs. Brown,” another player, Michael Green, elaborated to prevent James from having to speak up again since he was pretty obviously shaken after Coach Price’s yelling.  
  
With this new information, Coach Price huffed and stormed out of the gymnasium, leaving his team behind with no instruction to their next drills. He knew exactly where to find his star player. He stormed through the halls all the way to the auditorium where he saw the hustle and bustle of students building set pieces and props, and his son prodding his snoozing friend in a tree. His noisy entrance interrupted Mrs. Brown’s lecture on cell phones in the theater. Every eye previously trained on their work or on Mrs. Brown as she made her long-winded denouncement now fixed itself on Coach Price.  
  
“Why the heck is my team in a tree?” he demanded. His sharp voice jolted Arnold awake and Kevin placed a steady hand on his shoulder to orientate him.  
  
“It’s crime and punishment, Mr. Price,” Mrs. Brown explained. “Besides,” she made a grand flourish to the work onstage, “proximity to the art is cleansing for the soul.”  
  
Mr. Price seemed unimpressed by this flowery sentiment based on the glower that stained his face. He ordered his players to haul tail to the gym and the two of them scampered away. They paused only to grab their backpacks and for Kevin to discreetly nod a goodbye to Connor, who smiled and waved back, unnoticed in the kerfuffle of the adults.  
  
  


The now-complete team ran drills once, twice, what felt like it had to be ten times before their Coach finally returned from his discussion with Mrs. Brown about when would be appropriate to punish his team. His entrance stopped all conversation and the boys focused on their drills a little bit harder.  
  
“Circle up, guys!” he called out and the team dropped what they were doing to huddle around their coach. The uneven squeaks and thuds of basketballs hitting the floor and bouncing away echoed through the gymnasium.  
  
“Okay, look. The West High Knights have knocked us out of the play-offs three years running-”  
  
“Boo!” Arnold tried to incite a group response. No one joined in.  
  
“Yes. ‘Boo,’” Coach Price nodded. “Where was-ah. And now we are one game away from taking the championship right back from them!”  
  
This time, all of the team showed their enthusiasm at the prospect by vocalizing in some way, whether it be hoots, hollers, or simple “Yeah!”s  
  
“Settle down,” Coach Price commanded them and they immediately fell silent. “We need all of you to be at the top of your game. The team is you. You are the team. And this team does not exist unless each and every one of you is 100% focused on our goal. Am I clear?”  
  
There was a moment of silence as the team nodded before Arnold initiated their team chant: “What team?!”  
  
“Wildcats!” the rest of the group replied. They repeated the cheer twice more before they concluded with Arnold shouting “Wildcats!” and the rest responding “Get your head in the game!”  
  
This conclusion seemed to be perfectly timed as the final bell of the school day rang at that moment.  
  
“Alright guys, hit the showers!”  
  
  


The ride home was not pleasant for Kevin. At first it was much of the silent treatment and when Kevin tried to turn on the radio to ease the awkwardness, his father simply cleared his throat disapprovingly. Kevin sighed and his hand retreated back to his lap. Several moments passed and he mustered up the courage to talk to his father about the possibility of him maybe considering auditioning for the school musical.  
  
“Hey, Dad?”  
  
Apparently, Coach Price had just been waiting for his son to break the tension by speaking first so that he could say what was on his mind.  
  
“I just don’t understand this whole detention thing, son,” he shook his head. Kevin nodded and accepted that he would just have to breach the topic later.  
  
“It was my fault. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been texting.”  
  
Kevin’s blood went cold with his lack of foresight. Surely now his father was going to ask who he was texting and why it was so urgent that it couldn't have waited until class was over, and then Kevin would have to explain about Connor and he just knew that his father wasn’t ready for that.  
  
“You know Mrs. Brown will take any opportunity to bust my chops. That includes yours too.”  
  
_Or not,_ Kevin thought, pleasantly surprised.  
  
“I know. I’m sorry.” A lull fell over them and he thought that he would try again. “Hey, uh, Dad?”  
  
“Yeah, son?” Coach Price responded as they pulled up to an intersection and he flipped on his directional.  
  
“Did you ever think about trying something new, but you were afraid of what your friends might think?”  
  
“Like going left?” he asked referring to Kevin’s ball-playing as he actively turned right.  
  
“No, not exactly,” Kevin shook his head. “Something really different. Like if you want to try something really, really new and it could be a total disaster and all of your friends laugh at you.”  
  
“Well, you’ll still have Arnold,” Coach Price nodded. Kevin squinted at him, unsure if he was making a joke. After a few moments of deep contemplation, Coach Price responded to his son’s conundrum with some actual insight. “Well, maybe they’re not really your friends. Besides, that was my whole point today. The team, you guys have got to look out for each other. And you, you’re the leader.”  
  
He smiled reverently at Kevin. It made Kevin’s gut twitch unpleasantly to know that his father was proud of him and he was trying to do something completely opposite of what made him proud in the first place.  
  
“Dad, I’m not talking about-”  
  
“I forgot to tell you,” Coach Price interrupted, beaming. “There’s gonna be college scouts at the game next week. Know what a scholarship is worth these days, boy?”  
  
Kevin sighed and bowed his head.  
  
“A lot,” he conceded.  
  
“Yeah. So focus on your playing, alright?”  
  
Kevin nodded. Right. Focus. He had to focus.


	5. The Audition

The next day was the day of auditions for _Tinsel Town_. Both Connor and Kevin had been checking the sign-up sheet every chance they could, searching the page for the other’s name to no avail. But perhaps Mrs. Brown would accept late admissions? Not that Kevin even knew if he was going to try, but maybe Connor would.  
  
“Hey! Buddy, buddy, buddy!” Arnold clamored through the hall to reach Kevin at his locker.  
  
“Hey, Arnold,” Kevin smiled as he swapped his books. “What’s going on?”  
  
“The team’s hitting the gym during free period so what should we run?”  
  
Kevin looked at Arnold’s expectant face and, with a twinge of regret, he lied to him. For the second time in his entire life, he lied.  
  
“I actually can’t make it today, buddy,” he said, closing his locker door.  
  
“What?” Arnold laughed in disbelief.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve got to…catch up on some homework,” Kevin elaborated.  
  
“Seriously? How are you _already_ behind on homework?” Arnold asked. “It’s only the second day back. Heck, _I’m_ not even behind on homework. And I’ve been behind on homework since preschool.”  
  
Kevin forced a chuckle and patted Arnold’s shoulder before issuing a goodbye and ducking around the corner. Because he was suspicious of what Kevin was really up to—because _Kevin Price_ , behind on homework? On the second day? Not likely— Arnold tailed his best friend to the best of his ability. Unfortunately for Arnold, Kevin was clever and more athletic than he was and managed to give him the slip. So he would have to wait and interrogate his best friend later.  
  


When Kevin arrived at the auditorium, there were already at least a dozen people bustling about with nervous energy. He hid in the back row, hoping not to be recognized by any of the auditioners. Luckily they all seemed focused on Mrs. Brown’s speech.  
  
“Those wishing to audition must understand that time is of the essence. We have many roles to cast and final callbacks will be next week,” she explained. “First, you will sing a few bars and I will give you a sense of whether or not theater is your calling.” Kevin gulped. That didn’t sound like she was going to do it very kindly and he was still making up his mind about whether or not to try out at all. “Better to hear it from me now than your friends later. Our composer, Nabulungi Hatimbi, will accompany you and be available for rehearsals prior to callbacks.”  
  
Nabulungi stood up from her place at the piano on the stage and smiled at everyone. Now that the brain behind the work had been introduced, the auditions could begin. Even Kevin, who knew little about music, could tell that some were much better than others and some just…didn’t get the point.  
  
“Hey!” a soft voice whispered in Kevin’s ear and he jumped a mile, not having expected anyone to notice him. He turned to chastise his surprise-attacker only to find Connor McKinley meeting his gaze.  
  
“Oh, hey,” Kevin said as casually as he could manage.  
  
“You sign up for something?” Connor asked, sinking into the seat beside Kevin.  
  
“Oh, uh, no. You?” Connor shook his head.  
  
They hushed as a new singer took the stage and completely froze. Mrs. Brown dismissed her without a second glance.  
  
“She’s a little…harsh,” Kevin commented.  
  
Connor leaned back with a wily grin at Kevin, like he knew something about him that Kevin himself didn’t.  
  
“What?” he laughed uncomfortably, not entirely sure how to react to Connor’s gaze.  
  
“The big Wildcat superstar’s afraid?” Connor teased and Kevin immediately brushed aside the accusation with a ‘pfft.’  
  
“No,” he huffed. “I’m not _afraid_. Just…” It took a moment for Kevin to actually admit to the reason for his hesitation. “Scared.”  
  
Connor nodded understandingly. He was a little scared too and said so. His intimidation only increased when Mrs. Brown began praising the next auditioners before they even reached the stage.  
  
“And for the lead roles of brothers Andrew and Josh, we have only one pair signed up,” she bristled proudly. “Jacob and Jacob. Boys, please give us a sense of why we gather in this hallowed hall.”  
  
Jacob Grant and Jacob Brown climbed the stairs to the stage with poise and smugness. Jacob Brown fussed with his cell phone, much to the chagrin of his mother who watched him with sharp eyes.  
  
“Our rehearsal pianist did an arrangement,” he explained and Mrs. Brown softened while Nabulungi slumped as an upbeat version of the song Kevin had been listening to played from the phone speakers and the boys rhythmically snapped along to it.  
  
“ _It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see_ ,” Jacob Brown started.  
  
“ _You were always there beside me_ ,” Jacob Grant joined in with a shocked smile, as if his friend had snuck up and startled him.  
  
Kevin had to admit that there was a reason that the Jacobs were consistently cast as the leads. Those boys could sing.  
  
They brought out choreography that looked polished and well-rehearsed unlike the previous applicants Kevin had seen. Mrs. Brown seemed to be impressed by them as well, though she may hold a slight bias towards her son, who was doing a solo jazz square. Judging by the glare that Jacob Grant shot him, that had not been in their previous rehearsals. From her place on the piano bench, Nabulungi watched in horror as they destroyed her vision of the song with flashy dance moves and unnecessary riffs.  
  
The pair finished up their song with a rousing standing ovation from Mrs. Brown and half-hearted applause from Nabulungi.  
  
“Well,” Mrs. Brown stated. She looked around the auditorium in a grand gesture and both Kevin and Connor sunk further into the seats. “Are there any last-minute sign-ups?”  
  
Kevin and Connor slid even further out of view, each less confident with his chances if he chose to sign up at all after the performance the Jacobs gave.  
  
“Don’t be discouraged,” Jacob Brown implored condescendingly. “The theater clubs needs more than just performers. It needs fans, too. Buy tickets!”  
  
He started to descend from the stage, followed by Jacob Grant but the latter was stopped by Nabulungi.  
  
“Oh, um, Jacob?” she broached, rising from her place at the piano. He regarded her with a slightly disdainful look. “If you get the part, that song is actually a lot slower and-”  
  
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘if?’” he questioned her, getting into her face. “‘If’ we get the parts? Naba, my sweet sawed-off Sondheim, listen. We’ve been in seventeen school productions. And how many times have your compositions been selected?”  
  
Nabulungi shrunk into herself as she replied, “This uh, this would be the first.”  
  
Jacob Grant smiled at her in a belittling manner.  
  
“So, what does that tell you?” he asked her and she took a moment to think of what he was implying.  
  
“I should write you more solos?” she ventured, playing into his ego.  
  
He groaned and rolled his eyes, although he would not be opposed to having more solo numbers in the show.  
  
“No. It tells you that you do not offer direction, suggestion, or commentary,” he counted on his fingers. “You should just be thankful that Jacob and I are here to lift your music out of obscurity. Are we clear?”  
  
Nabulungi stumbled as she retreated from the intimidating boy. Luckily she ended up falling onto the piano bench with a discordant noise from the piano keys she hit on her way down. She nodded up at him and his previously stone-cold expression transformed into a saccharine one.  
  
“Nice talking to you,” he chirped.  
  
Jacob Grant then descended the stage and caught up with Jacob Brown on his way out of the auditorium.  
  
“Are there any last-minute sign-ups?” Mrs. Brown asked again and when no one spoke up, she decided it was as good as done. “No? G-”  
  
“I’d like to audition, Mrs. Brown,” Connor announced, rising from his hiding spot with a sudden burst of courage. He slipped out of the row as Kevin stared after him in shock and horror.  
  
Mrs. Brown tutted at him, shaking her head.  
  
“Deadlines mean something in the world of theatre, young man,” she chided. “The individual auditions are long, long over and there are simply no other pairs.”  
  
Kevin surprised himself when he stood and shakily offered to be Connor’s singing partner. Mrs. Brown stared at him with raised eyebrows, skeptical of his volunteering.  
  
“Kevin Price? Where is your…your sports posse?”  
  
“Team,” he corrected patiently. “But I’m here alone.” He looked at Connor with a small smile. “I’m here to sing with him.”  
  
Mrs. Brown didn’t seem to accept this as his answer as she let out a huffy laugh.  
  
“We take these shows very seriously here at East High. I called for pair auditions and you didn’t respond,” she chastised them.  
  
“Well, I-”  
  
“Free period is just about over.”  
  
Mrs. Brown stalked out of the auditorium, leaving the pair of boys and Nabulungi alone.  
  
“He’s got a great voice!” Kevin called after her, trying to convince her to give Connor one more chance. She dismissively waved a hand back at him. Kevin gave Connor an apologetic smile. He’d tried his best to get him that audition.  
  
Hearing the announcement that the class period was nearly finished, Nabulungi gathered all of her music and she started on her way out only to trip down the stairs getting off the stage, sending her music sheets flying. She swore under her breath as she collected all of them.  
  
Kevin raced down the aisle to help her with Connor not too far behind.  
  
“Are you okay?” Connor asked and Nabulungi nodded, not making eye contact with either of them. “Well, good to meet you, Okay. I’m Connor.”  
  
Nabulungi managed a weak laugh while Kevin rolled his eyes at the cheesy joke.  
  
“So, _Nabulung_ i,” he stressed so that Connor would have no excuse not to know how to pronounce it—he’d used the same trick on Arnold but had a feeling that it would actually work with Connor. “You’re a composer?”  
  
She confirmed with a nod and Kevin told her that it was pretty cool that she wrote the music for the whole show. While he was engaged in conversing with Nabulungi, Connor gathered the majority of the sheets and stood up. He flicked through them to see if they were all in order or if they needed to be reorganized.  
  
“Why are you so afraid of the Jacobs?” Kevin asked Nabulungi, rising and offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet.  
  
“They are…very scary,” Nabulungi explained as though that should have been obvious, particularly evidenced by her interaction with Jacob Grant.  
  
“But it’s your show,” Kevin countered. When Nabulungi looked at him with a brow raised in skepticism, he continued. “Yeah, like…the composer’s kind of like the playmaker, right?”  
  
“Playmaker?” Nabulungi repeated, unfamiliar with the term. Connor too cocked his head.  
  
“You know, the one who makes everyone else look good. I mean, without you, there is no show,” Kevin elaborated. “You’re the playmaker here, Naba.”  
  
Nabulungi considered this information and her face lit up with the newly discovered confidence. Inspired, she asked if the boys wanted to hear how the song was truly meant to sound. Connor enthusiastically responded and Kevin nodded, following his friend’s lead.  
  
Nabulungi took her place at the piano again and began playing a soft balladic version. After several notes, she nodded at the boys to start singing. Connor hesitated for a second but took the first lines.  
  
“ _It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see_  
  _You were always there beside me_.”  
  
Kevin never ceased to be amazed by Connor’s ability. But he couldn’t ogle for too long because then it was his cue. A little shakily and out-of-practice as he hadn’t sung since New Year’s Eve, he continued, “ _Thought I was alone, with no one to hold_.”  
  
The rest of the song was written for both voices and it was better than Kevin thought it would sound. Even his less-than-experienced voice didn’t downplay Connor’s proper one.  
  
“That’s nice,” Kevin commented when they had finished. Connor nodded in agreement, glancing between his singing partner and the composer. Nabulungi bristled proudly, having her work commended instead of torn down like her previous interaction.  
  
“Price, McKinley, you have a callback,” Mrs. Brown’s voice echoed through the auditorium as she swept around the corner back into view, causing all three students to jump at the surprise. “Nabby, give them the duet from act two and work on it with them.”  
  
Nabulungi nodded enthusiastically and began rifling through her compositions to find the right one. She rattled off all of the times that she was available for rehearsal to an ecstatic Connor and a shaken Kevin.  
  
This was bad. He hadn’t thought that he would get a callback, he was just in it to support Connor. This was…very bad.


	6. The Disturbance

The very next day, the callback list was posted. The Jacobs always made it a habit of checking out the list to see who their supporting cast might be—often to weigh in on who they thought would make them shine the brightest— but this time their hearts froze as they read:  
  
“ _ **CALLBACKS**_  
_**ANDREW and JOSH: Next Thursday, 3:30pm**_ ****  
_Jacob Grant and Jacob Brown; Kevin Price and Connor McKinley_ ”  
  
“Is this a joke?” Jacob Grant asked icily, deadly serious. “They didn’t even audition.”  
  
“Maybe we’re being Punk’d?” Jacob Brown offered as a solution. He was just as serious. “Maybe we’re being filmed right now! Maybe we’ll get to meet Ashton!”  
  
Jacob Grant rolled his eyes and scoffed at his friend.  
  
“Oh, shut up, Jacob!”  
  
Jacob Grant tried to calm himself down from this complete and utter betrayal of everything he knew. He was muttering to himself about how he “couldn’t believe this” and that “this had to be a nightmare,” when the majority of the basketball team came around the corner to witness the crisis.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Arnold asked in a way that almost sounded sympathetic and sincere. “Oh, did Kevin realize you were flirting with him? ‘Cuz you know he’s like, really, _really_ Mormon so I don’t think he even-”  
  
He didn’t finish his sentiment about Kevin not believing in gay people—as though homosexuality was an entity like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy—because he caught sight of his best friend’s name on the page in front of him.  
  
“What?” he laughed. He stared at the page in disbelief, even going so far as to nudge Jacob Brown out of the way to get a closer look. That had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe there was some student around called, like, Kevin Prince or something who auditioned with that Connor kid? Because it sure wouldn’t be Kevin _Price_.  
  


Later, the cafeteria was bustling with students from every crowd as they ate and socialized. Well, _most_ of them ate and socialized; Jacob Grant was the exception, pacing at the table where only Jacob Brown sat and causing a great sense of tension and disturbance.  
  
“Can you sit down?” Jacob Brown asked after swallowing a bite. “You’re making me nerv-”  
  
“How _dare_ they sign up! How dare they! Especially the new kid,” Jacob Grant huffed, ignoring his friend’s suggestion. Although he was also upset that Kevin had gotten a callback, he had been trying to entice him into coming to the theater for ages so he wasn’t all _that_ upset about Kevin joining. That Connor though; _he_ had to go. Jacob Brown cleared his throat and Jacob Grant stalked over to sit down at the table to appease his friend. Still upset, he immediately stood up again and repeated, “I mean, just how _dare_ he!”  
  
“I know,” Jacob Brown nodded. “They didn’t even ask our permission.”  
  
“That’s exactly my point,” the stronger-willed Jacob huffed, looking out over the cliques congregating in the cafeteria. “Somebody’s got to teach him the rules around here.”  
  
Jacob Brown nodded in strong agreement, following in his friend’s lead before asking for clarification on what rules Jacob meant.  
  
A few tables away from the increasingly anxious Jacob, James Church was looking equally ill-at-ease as Arnold spewed about his best friend’s betrayal, likening it to Anakin’s turn to the Sith. The rest of the team sitting with them nodded along absently in various degrees of interest in _Star Wars_ no matter how deeply they were confused and hurt by Kevin’s turn to theatre. James found a moment when Arnold had to breathe and took the opportunity to venture a question.  
  
“Can I…Guys, can I tell you something?”  
  
The rest of the team welcomed the interruption and gave James their full attention. Arnold had been about to open his mouth to continue his rant against his best friend’s odd behavior the other day—which apparently included lying to his best friend—but Colin Michaels, another member of the team, gently nudged his side to indicate that he shouldn’t continue at this point.  
  
“Go ahead,” Brian Davis encouraged James around a mouthful of the school-provided chicken sandwich.  
  
James appeared to be hyping himself up to say something, gathering courage to tell them what was on his mind. He swallowed hard and took a couple of deep breaths.  
  
“If Kevin can tell his secret, I can tell mine,” he murmured to himself, affirming that he could do this.  
  
Misjudging this caution, knowing James’s history, and possessing little tact, Arnold asked him bluntly, “Did your Dad do something???”  
  
The courage that James had mustered up fizzled out with this question and everyone ’s head whipped around to glare at Arnold. Colin elbowed Arnold hard in the side. Arnold then began babbling an apology, realizing how badly he had just screwed up.  
  
It took almost a minute for James to recover but when he did, he announced—either too loudly or in one of those awkwardly timed lulls in a large congregation’s conversation—that he baked. All who heard reacted, either with gasps or laughter, and he shrank in mortification. That was meant to be shared only among his closest friends.  
  
“You…you _what_?” Arnold asked, shaking his head and squinting at James as if he hadn’t understood what he had said in the first place. He laughed uncomfortably, as he always did when odd news was sprung on him.  
  
James glanced around at his teammates, gauging the situation he had created. Luckily the rest of the cafeteria seemed to return to their own conversations—likely about how there was another basketball player deviating from the norm and delving into something they would no doubt think was feminine and kinda gay—so there were only five sets of eyes on him.  
  
“I…I love to bake,” James confessed again. An explanation started spewing from his mouth before he could stop it. “I, um, you see, my mom…I just liked to help out when I can and then I actually really liked baking. Strudels, scones, even apple pandowdy.”  
  
The boys glanced at each other, unfamiliar with the final recipe but not interested enough in _what_ he baked to discuss it.  
  
“Look, James, it’s great you help your mom out and everything,” began Michael Green carefully, “but you can’t go around just telling people that! I mean,” he looked around at the nearest tables, full of chattering students occasionally pointing at James. “We’re _jocks_.”  
  
“Yeah, we’re jocks!” echoed Arnold, pleased to be included in that statement.  
  
“We don’t bake,” Michael continued his point, speaking over Arnold. “We don’t do musicals either, but we especially don’t _bake_.”  
  
James sank into himself and kept quiet for the rest of the lunch period.  
  
However, one of the nearby students had seemed to be inspired by James’s courageous announcement and stood up and waved his arms, shouting for everyone’s attention. The lunchroom quieted and everyone turned their focus to David Neeley, one of the undisputed smartest kids in school.  
  
“I, too, have an announcement to make,” he proclaimed loud and clear. Hushed whispers and laughs circulated the room but he paid them no mind. He took a deep breath and then declared that his interests lay not only in academic success but also in breakdancing.  
  
Everyone stared at him in confusion for a second, as if trying to imagine the scrawny, sandy-haired boy in spectacles busting any kind of move. Then, almost in unison, the entire cafeteria dissolved into laughter at the confession. One of Neeley’s friends, who also possessed his reputation, tugged him to sit back down and avoid further humiliation.  
  
On the opposite side of the lunchroom, surrounded by teens in hoodies and an incredibly laid-back demeanor, a slender boy leapt onto the table with a large smile, eager to join the confession bandwagon. Due to his new height, everyone shifted their attention to him.  
  
“Ghali! Get down,” chided Josh Harris, as he tugged on the boy’s leg to no avail. He nodded at the others to help her stop whatever was about to happen, but none of them seemed interested in preventing the potential embarrassment.  
  
“Guys!” Ghali called for complete attention around the room. “Guys, I play the cello!”  
  
Josh tugged on him more fervently. Ghali was sort of regarded as the King of Chill and cello, or anything that required rigorous practice and regimen for that matter, was the antithesis of chill.  
  
“Cool!” praised a boy at the table, nodding absently. Josh rolled her eyes at Ben Zelder and his simplicity, knowing that he hadn’t understood the implications. “So, uh, what is that?” Ghali mimed playing the cello but his friend still missed the meaning and Ghali had to spell out that it was a stringed bass instrument that was held upright and…he realized he lost Ben. “It’s like a giant violin.”  
  
Now that Ben understood, he aided Josh in getting Ghali to take his seat. How could he disturb their lifestyle like this? He probably had to wear a monkey suit and go play at concerts— “but not even the _cool_ concerts like Pink Floyd.”  
  
Jacob Grant stared at the once-stable crowd now all confessing to secret desires and causing all-around anarchy in the cafeteria.  
  
“This is all _wrong_!” he turned on Jacob, taking out his frustrations on his friend before catching sight of a shock of red hair ambling through the chaos with his tray of food. His eyes lit up with a plan to confront the boy and he immediately left the table to carry it out.  
  
Connor stuck close to his newfound friend Chris and they tried to find seats but everyone was bustling about and gossiping. Chris pointed out the oddities as people from different cliques socialized with each other—for example, Sadaka Metembe from the decathlon team was talking to Ghali Kakoma, who she had disparaged the day before as lacking class and motivation; Asmeret Wamala, the only girl from Ghali’s clique, had made her way over to speak with David Neeley. A couple of girls from the Home Economics class had started to make their way over to James only to be shooed away by the rest of the boys.  
  
“What is going on?” Chris asked himself, not even noting that now that they had arrived, all eyes had shifted to them.  
  
“Why are they staring at you?” Connor asked, just as baffled by everyone’s behavior. This caught Chris’s attention and, after assessing the situation, he came up with a solution.  
  
“I think they’re staring at _you_. Because of you dethroning the Jacobs,” Chris explained with an air of almost-pride that _someone_ had finally put the Jacobs in their place; although it was unintentional, it still had Chris's seal of approval. Connor froze, unsure what to do with this attention.  
  
“No, no, no,” he muttered as he maneuvered through the bustling students, trying to find a seat though he kept his head down. He couldn’t have so many eyes on him judging him like that. He supposed that Chris stuck close beside him but he couldn't be sure. Because he was focused on ignoring the stares, he crashed headlong into someone, forcing his tray into their chest.  
  
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he apologized profusely as a horrible shriek pierced the air, silencing everyone else in the room. He looked up at his victim and his blood froze. Of course luck would have it that it was Jacob Grant. “No, I am so, _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just-”  
  
But it didn’t matter. The screaming had attracted the attention of a nearby teacher. And of course luck would have it that it was Mrs. Brown. Jacob explained his side of the situation, a biased recollection painting Connor in the worst light.  
  
At the same time, Kevin approached the table where his team sat and he was immediately pushed into a seat. He felt they were treating him like a criminal.  
  
“What’s up?” he asked as casually as he could.  
  
“‘What’s up?’” Arnold repeated incredulously. “Uh, you skipped practice yesterday to try out for some _musical_. And now people are…’confessing.’ All kinds of things!” He pointed to James. “He’s _baking_ , Kev! _Baking_!”  
  
James shrank again. He should have just stayed quiet about it. He spotted the girls from before and slunk away to talk to them.  
  
“Our whole team is coming apart ’cause of this whole singing thing,” Arnold continued. “Look!” He pointed out James and the girls. “He’s _mingling_ with-with…” He actually wasn’t sure where those Home Ec girls belonged, but he knew that it wasn’t with the basketball team.  
  
“People suddenly think that they can do _other stuff_ ,” griped Michael Green, jumping in. “Stuff that’s not _their_ stuff.”  
  
“What about Arnold?” Kevin pointed out. “His stuff is completely nerdy but he’s a jock just like us.” Arnold bristled with pride at being included again. Michael looked him over and stepped to Kevin so they could have a private conference where he asked if Arnold _really_ was meant to be part of the team or if it was just a favor. Kevin shoved Michael away.  
  
“Look, all we’re saying is that we’ve got a playoff game next week and you’ve gotta focus.”


	7. The Agreement

Connor had received a sweet and unexpected note in his locker that asked him to join Kevin on the roof of the building in the science wing. A little suspicious but more eager, he accepted and climbed to the rooftop. It was littered with plants in various states of bloom. It was honestly a little breathtaking. Amid the plants, Kevin sat. He rose when he saw Connor approach, a grin stretching across his face.  
  
“Hey!” he greeted as Connor looked around.  
  
“Hey,” Connor replied. “It’s like a jungle up here.”  
  
Kevin laughed and nodded before comparing it to the cafeteria. Connor grimaced and shook his head. He would prefer to never have to think about that experience ever again.  
  
“So, is this your private hideout?” he asked, eager to get the conversation off of himself and onto anything else. In this case, Kevin.  
  
Kevin confirmed this and explained that he asked a favor of the science club and that his friends didn’t even know that the rooftop garden _existed_ , much less that he would frequent it.  
  
“Everyone wants to be your friend, don’t they?” Connor teased with a smile. He apparently accidentally struck a cord because Kevin’s mood soured slightly.  
  
“Yeah, unless we lose,” he responded bitterly, sitting down again. Connor sighed and sat down beside him. He could tell that he was too close for boys to be to each other, but he had hurt Kevin’s feelings and needed to make it better. Comfort couldn’t come from far away.  
  
“It uh…must be tough,” Connor said, carefully putting his arm around Kevin’s shoulders but deciding better of it and simply patting his back a couple of times. “Being the coach’s son and all.”  
  
Kevin nodded absently.  
  
“Makes practice a little harder, I guess.” He huffed out a laugh and ran his hands through his hair as he stared up at the blue sky overhead. “Oh, I don’t know what he’s going to say about the singing. The audition. The _callback_.”  
  
He shuddered. His dad had grounded his three-year-old brother for two weeks just for allegedly sneaking a doughnut and this was a little more dire than a treat.  
  
“You’re worried?” Connor asked. He could understand that. He had told his mother that he had auditioned for the musical on a whim and he could see the fear in her eyes that he had relapsed. He had spent the better part of the next hour assuring her that he hadn’t and that he just wanted to find some friends.  
  
“My parents’ friends are always saying, you know, ‘Your son’s the basketball guy. He’s going to do something incredible. You must be so proud.’”Kevin slumped. He turned his head to look at Connor. “But sometimes I don’t want to be ‘the basketball guy.’ I just wasn't to be a guy, you know?”  
  
Connor nodded in understanding.  
  
“The way you treated Nab…Nabalungi?”  
  
“Nabulungi,” Kevin confirmed with a nod.  
  
“The way you treated her the other day at the audition,” Connor continued with a small smile. “Do your friends know that you’re that guy?”  
  
“I mean, they know I’m nice to people; I _am_ a Mormon, after all,” Kevin laughed. Connor chuckled along but shook his head.  
  
“You know what I meant, Kevin.”  
  
Kevin sighed and admitted that no, no the rest of his team didn’t really know that side of him since they primarily saw him in the leadership role of team captain.  
  
“Then they don’t know enough about you,” Connor asserted with a firm nod. He took a deep breath and divulged something of his own. “At my other school, I was the freaky math guy.” _The freaky **gay** math guy _, he added in his mind but he had a good friend in Kevin and he didn’t want to lose him. “But then I came here and I could be anyone I want to be.__  
  
“When I was singing with you, I just felt like, you know…a guy.”  
  
Kevin laughed and nudged Connor.  
  
“You even looked like one.”  
  
Connor gave him a mock-offended look and playfully shoved his shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Connor broached a question.  
  
“You remember in kindergarten how you’d meet a kid and know nothing about them, but then ten seconds later you’re playing like you’re best friends because you don’t have to be anything except yourself?”  
  
Kevin nodded, remembering that he had accidentally become best friends with Arnold Cunningham at that point in his life by the nature of giving him a handful of crayons. (If he recalled correctly, the exchange had been Arnold introducing himself and stumbling over the syllables in his last name, asking for some crayons and to be Kevin’s best friend. And Kevin, being as nice as he was, agreed to both.)  
  
“Well, singing with you felt like that,” Connor admitted without looking at Kevin. In truth, it had felt _similar_ to that but not quite. Singing with Kevin, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had in kindergarten because in kindergarten he hadn’t constructed his hetero-reality yet so there was no wall to break down. There was no shell to crack to reach the traits he tried so desperately to hide.  
  
Realizing that there was this feeling stirring in him again, Connor stood and took a few steps away from Kevin, unsure if his friend had noticed anything unusual in his behavior.  
  
“I never even thought about singing,” Kevin said, rising to his feet. “You know, outside of church. Until you.” The last words hadn’t meant to come out and he tried to cover them by explaining that Connor was pretty cool at the lodge and he was mostly familiar with the likes of the Jacobs, who were decidedly _un_ cool singers so why would he ever want to sing if they were kind of nasty people?  
  
Connor stepped backwards, a little shocked by the fountain of words. Half of them came out too fast for him to really understand but what he ultimately got out of it was that Kevin never wanted to sing before but now he did, and it was all thanks to Connor. And that was all that mattered.  
  
“So, do you want to do the callbacks?” he asked Kevin, not entirely sure where he stood on that matter.  
  
Kevin thought about it for maybe two seconds and then gave his answer.  
  
“Sure. Just call me ‘freaky callback guy.’”  
  
Connor beamed at him and very nearly jumped on him to hug him but he didn’t. He cleared his throat and, as casually as he could manage, he thanked Kevin by telling him that he was ‘a really cool guy.’


	8. The Disappointment

Because they had agreed to the callback, that meant that Kevin and Connor had to practice their song. In order to do this, they individually met with Nabulungi as often as possible. Kevin stressed that his meetings had to occur during school hours since his father would surely find out about it if he tried to practice at home.  
  
During one of the many practice sessions with Nabulungi, Kevin had gotten so into it that he had completely lost track of the time.  
  
“Oh shoot!” Kevin exclaimed as he caught a look at the clock. He scrambled to collect his bag and his sheet music as he raced out the door. “Gotta go! Great work! Thanks! Love you, bye!” He skidded to a halt when he realized that he had just said that—it was worse than the time he had called Mrs. Brown ‘Mom’ and his team hadn’t let him live _that_ down for nearly two months—and took an extra second to return to the classroom and peer around the door jamb. He corrected himself frantically, “Not that last one. I meant just ‘bye!’”  
  


Kevin arrived in the gym out of breath from running through the halls just in time to see his team filing towards the locker room. Arnold, who spotted him out of the corner of his eye, gave him the bitterest look Kevin had ever seen cross his face. He couldn’t look more displeased if Kevin told him that he had single-handedly destroyed the Starship Enterprise and all onboard.  
  
Coach Price, who had been ushering the boys to the locker room, finally turned and looked on his son with disappointment etched in every wrinkle of his face. He stood with his arms folded across his chest as he awaited an explanation. When none came except for a guilty face, he told Kevin that “the team deserves a _little_ effort from you today, son,” and tossed a ball at him. Coach Price then retired to his office, leaving his son behind to practice.  
  
Kevin sighed and began to practice on his own. He scolded himself for losing track of time, for letting his team down, for getting distracted. Because so many angry thoughts were flowing through his mind, he was missing the shots, which served only to further frustrate him.  
  
His less-than-skillful shots were unfortunately witnessed. Connor’s sudden appearance startled him when the redhead greeted him with “So _this_ is your real stage, huh?”  
  
Kevin shrugged.  
  
“I mean, I just call it a sweaty gym but you do you,” he laughed as he passed the ball to Connor. For half a second, he worried that Connor wouldn’t catch it but his fears were set at ease when Connor not only caught it properly but proceeded to make a basket incredibly smoothly on his first try.  
  
Kevin stared at him with an amused smile.  
  
“Whoa!” He laughed as the ball bounced to the floor and Connor swooped it up into his arms. “Don’t tell me you’re good at hoops, too.”  
  
Connor shrugged.  
  
“I once scored 41 points on a league championship game,” he boasted, tossing the ball back to Kevin, whose bemusement had melted into simple amazement and reverence at the feat.  
  
“Really?” he asked, looking Connor over. “Oh, no way.”  
  
Connor nodded and added confidently, “Oh yes way. And on the same day, I invented the space shuttle and microwave popcorn.”  
  
Kevin laughed and shook his head as he collected the basketball and made another shot. Connor watched him continue to shoot a couple baskets before continuing.  
  
“I’ve been rehearsing with Nabulungi.”  
  
Kevin grunted in approval as he dunked the ball. He landed back on the floor with a soft thud.  
  
“Yeah, uh, me too,” he said, pushing his hair away from his forehead with the glistening of sweat accumulating there. He then collected the ball once more.  
  
“I know,” Connor said, a smile spreading across his face. “She said you ‘love her.’” He sang the last two words teasingly. Kevin grimaced and shook his head.  
  
“Shut up,” he cringed, preferring not to remember that. He shot another basket and this one appeared less of a guarantee to go in.  
  
“Oh, by the way, I missed practice,” Kevin said as casually as he could as he grabbed the ball again. “So if I get kicked off the team, it should be on your conscience.”  
  
It was impossible to tell, but Kevin sounded pretty serious about that.  
  
“I…I wasn’t the one who told you to sing,” Connor defended, folding his arms across his chest and pouting slightly. Besides, even if he had been, he wasn’t the one to schedule Kevin’s rehearsals with Nabulungi.  
  
Kevin then dropped this serious demeanor and approached Connor with a broad smile. He assured that he was just joking and ruffled Connor’s hair teasingly. Connor laughed along and impulsively grabbed the basketball out of Kevin’s other arm.  
  
“Traveling!” Kevin accused as Connor danced away with the ball. “Oh, you are _so_ traveling right now!”  
  
Connor shrugged as he continued to hold the ball out for Kevin to snatch back only to teasingly keep it out of reach as soon as he would grab it. Kevin laughed and shook his head at his friend.  
  
He waited until Connor got close to him and he grabbed him about the middle and lifted him into the air, eliciting a surprised, squeaky laugh from him.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Both boys looked up and saw Coach Price standing at the opposite end of the gym. Kevin immediately set Connor down and Connor handed the ball back.  
  
“This is a closed practice, young man,” Coach Price explained as he stalked over to the pair.  
  
“Dad, practice is over,” Kevin tried to vouch.  
  
“Not until the last player leaves the gym. That means you, son.”  
  
Connor looked between his friend and the Coach, his heart sinking. He felt sickness churning in his stomach but he hadn’t knowingly done anything wrong so there was no reason to feel this guilty.  
  
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, hoping to make amends.  
  
Kevin started slightly, as if having forgotten that Connor was standing beside him until he had just spoken. Not to be rude, he introduced Connor to his father. Connor stuck his hand out, but Coach Price was less than interested in it.  
  
“Your detention buddy,” the coach identified coldly.  
  
Feeling just how unwelcome he was, Connor retreated, saying a warm goodbye to Kevin and a cordial one to Coach Price. Kevin gave a quick wave as his friend left.  
  
“Dad, detention was my-” Coach Price silenced his son with a look. Kevin nodded and kept his teeth clenched together  
  
Once Connor was well out of earshot, Coach Price looked at Kevin and sighed deeply. Kevin stirred quietly under his gaze, uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond. Before he could open his mouth, however, his father directed the conversation with a simple command.  
  
“You need to focus.”  
  
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry,” Kevin apologized. He really was. He knew the team was counting on him. He knew that his future was counting on his performance in the upcoming game. He just had to knuckle down and focus on the game.  
  
“You haven’t missed a practice in three years,” Coach Price said. He then turned his attention to the door through which Connor had exited and all but snarled, “Then that…that _kid_ shows up, and-”  
  
“‘That kid’ is named Connor,” Kevin stated firmly. He felt the need to defend Connor against the tone his father took. He was unsure why his dad would unquestioningly despise Connor despite knowing him for all of three seconds. “And he’s very nice.”  
  
Coach Price scowled at his son, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
“Well, helping you miss practice doesn’t make him ‘very nice.’ Not in my book.” Kevin looked at the floor, knowing he had disappointed his father. Adding salt to the wound, Coach added, “Or your team’s.”  
  
“He’s not causing a problem, Dad!” Kevin insisted.  
  
“He’s causing a distraction!” Coach Price cleared his throat and took a step back. He let out a huff and appeared to calm down since he next spoke in an even tone, impressing on Kevin the seriousness of the situation as best as he could. “You’re the team leader, son. What you do affects this team and the _entire school_. If you’re not completely focused, we’re not going to win next week. The championship games don’t come along all the time. They’re something special. Think about that.”  
  
Coach Price turned his back on Kevin and he started back to his office, satisfied that he had had the final word on the matter.  
  
“Yeah? Well a lot of things are special,” Kevin said lowly, the words slipping through his lips before he even thought them. He froze and saw his father turn around to face him, his eyebrows raised in skepticism.  
  
“Boy,” he said in an eerily calm manner. “You know we-your mother and I-we want you to get into-”  
  
“Yeah,” Kevin cut him off nodding sharply. “Yeah I know. You want me to get into a great college. And great colleges are sending scouts next week so I need to focus.”  
  
Coach Price stared stoically at his son for several long moments before stating a single word: “Heaven.” This confused Kevin but he didn’t have time to ask about it because he was told that his private practice was over.


	9. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter where Kevin and Connor _aren't_ the biggest players?

Kevin tried to ignore the overall awkwardness that had arisen at home. His father hardly spoke to him and his mother, concerned, overcompensated. He had somehow hoped that his time at school would be at least slightly less awkward. However, that seemed a hapless hope when Arnold found him in the library and approached.  
  
“Is he some kind of warlock?”  
  
“Excuse me?” Kevin deadpanned. It was too early for Arnold’s shenanigans. He just wanted to find the books he needed for his Psych paper and get out.  
  
“The guy, the brain guy,” Arnold clarified. “He’s gotta be some kind of warlock. I mean, you’re obviously under some hypnotic spell that’s making you want to be in a musical, so it’s obvious.”  
  
“Connor’s not a warlock,” Kevin sighed. He sometimes worried about Arnold’s grasp on reality.  
  
“Well, how _else_ do you explain it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kevin shook his head. And that was the truth. He had no idea what had compelled him to offer to sing with Connor. “I just did it. Look, who cares?”  
  
Arnold stopped by a shelf, completely flabbergasted.  
  
“‘Who _cares_?’” he repeated incredulously. “Uh, how about your most loyal best friend in the whole world?”  
  
The passing librarian shushed him, but Arnold just shrugged and blamed the noise on Kevin without a second thought. Kevin rolled his eyes at how his ‘loyal best friend’ just threw him under the bus for something he wasn’t even in real trouble for doing.  
  
Arnold sighed and tried a different tactic.  
  
“You’re a hoops guy,” he spelled out. “Not a musical guy.”  
  
“You’re a _Star Wars_ guy but you're also a _Star Trek_ guy,” Kevin offered, thinking the comparison was a bit of a stretch but hoping it would work.  
  
Unfortunately, Arnold didn’t miss a beat as he responded, “They’re in the same realm of coolness, so that’s a completely different thing. If I were a _Star Wars_ guy and a, I dunno,” he looked around the library to see if he could draw inspiration for a lame fandom he would never think to join. “A _Twilight_ guy, then we'd have a problem.”  
  
Kevin sighed. So much for his rebuttal. He continued down the rows of shelves, searching for the proper books.  
  
“Have you ever seen Michael Crawford on a cereal box?” Arnold asked, keeping up with his friend.  
  
“Who?” Kevin asked, glancing away from the book titles briefly.  
  
“ _Exactly_ ,” Arnold quietly exclaimed. “He was the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. My mom has seen that musical twenty-seven times, and she puts his picture in our refrigerator.” Kevin gave Arnold a weird look, silently asking if he misspoke. “Yeah, not _on_ it, _in_ it. So my point’s that if you play basketball, you end up on cereal boxes.If you sing in musicals, you end up in my mom’s fridge.”  
  
Kevin was still mulling it over. When he finally spoke, it was to ask “But, why would she put the picture _inside_ the fridge?”  
  
“One of her crazy diet ideas,” Arnold shrugged. “I think she thinks Dad thinks I made her fat.”  
  
The librarian circled back to Arnold, deeming his voice to be too loud for the library and she shushed him again. Arnold lowered his voice to a whisper as he continued to question his best friend.  
  
“How can you expect the rest of us to focus on the game if you’re off in leotards singing ‘Twinkle Town?’”  
  
“No one said anything about leotards,” Kevin defended immediately. He could scarcely imagine what he would look like in a leotard. Probably ridiculous. “And it’s _Tinsel Town_.”  
  
“Ha, not _yet_ ,” laughed Arnold, shaking his head. “But just you wait.”  
  
Kevin shook his head and grabbed the book he needed. Having completed the task at hand, he started up towards the front desk, his overly concerned friend tagging along just behind him.  
  
“We need our Captain,” Arnold implored. “Big time. You can’t just ditch us like this. Did, did Han Solo ever just abandon the Millennium Falcon?”  
  
“I don’t know, Arnold,” Kevin sighed, handing his books over to the librarian so he could check them out. But Arnold was correcting himself based on Han’s cryogenic freezing and advocating that that wasn’t _technically_ abandonment.  
  
“Mr. Cunningham,” the librarian all but pleaded with the over exuberant boy to lower his voice.  
  
“I tried to tell him,” Arnold shrugged, leaving the library behind. “I really, really tried.” Since talking to Kevin had no effect, Arnold decided that he would have to take matters into his own hands.  
  


Arnold gathered James and Middala to help him in his plan. The three of them marched into one of the science classrooms and found exactly who they were looking for: Chris Thomas and a couple of others on the Decathlon team, including David Neeley.  
  
“We need to talk,” Arnold told Chris Thomas, who raised a brow skeptically at them. He nearly scoffed despite the fact that both of their teams had the same problem—one of their key players was getting distracted by the musical.  
  
“Chris, please? Just hear us out,” James asked. Unlike with Arnold, Chris actually considered the proposition and allowed the jocks to speak.  
  
As Arnold began to explain his plan to Chris—a fool-proof plan that would completely shatter Kevin and Connor’s friendship and thus make them not want to work with each other ever again and not audition for the musical—the Jacobs passed by the doorway and witnessed the conspiring.  
  
Jacob Brown was about to walk on by without giving it a second thought, but Jacob Grant held out his arm to prevent him from going further.  
  
“They must be trying to figure out how to make sure those two actually beat us out,” Jacob Brown breathed. Jacob Grant shot him a deadly look but he still continued. “I mean, the jocks already rule most of the school. If they get into the musical, they’ve got the entire student body.”  
  
“And,” Jacob Grant all but snarled, “if those science geeks get _Connor_ hooked up with Kevin Price, then the scholastic club goes from drool to cool.” He shuddered, appalled by the anarchy that this coup would create. “Jake, we need to save our show from people who don’t know the difference between a Tony Award and Tony Hawk.”  
  
Jacob Grant stalked away and Jacob Brown followed a couple of steps behind, struggling to keep pace with his friend.  
  
By the end of their scheming, it had been decided that Arnold and Chris would head the efforts to drive the wedge between Kevin and Connor.  
  
“Tomorrow, then,” Chris nodded as he ushered the jocks out of the lab.  
  
“First thing,” confirmed Arnold. He nodded to James and Middala that they ought to leave before anyone got suspicious that they approved of fraternizing between the cliques.  
  
While Middala followed Arnold immediately, James took an extra moment to tell Chris that he would see him tomorrow before heading off after his friends.


	10. The Execution

The next day, Arnold and Chris set about their plan. Arnold had sent Kevin a text to meet the team in the locker room but when Kevin arrived, he couldn’t find any of them. He groaned and continued searching. Why did Arnold insist on doing weird things?  
  
He finally found his team gathered around a table covered in pictures and trophies. In the center was a laptop.  
  
“Did you guys get permission to take this stuff out of the case?” Kevin asked. Principal Hatimbi was going to be pissed if they didn’t.  
  
“Yeah, no problem,” Arnold waved off the concern before picking up a picture and showing Kevin. “‘Spider’ Bill Netrine, class of ’72. He was the MVP in the league championship game.”  
  
Kevin nodded and James picked up a trophy he stated belonged to “Sam Nedler, class of ’02. Also known as ‘Sammy Slamma Jamma.’ Captain, MVP of the league championship game.”  
  
Middala pointed to the next picture.  
  
“‘The Thunderclap,’” he introduced and the rest of the team punctuated the nickname with a resounding clap. “Hap Hadden, ’95. Led the Wildcats to back-to-back city championships. A legend.”  
  
“Legends, one and all,” agreed Brian Davis with an eager nod.  
  
“ _But_ ,” argued Arnold, appearing almost lawyerly. “Do you think any of them got to be legends by getting involved in musical auditions just days before the league championships?”  
  
The rest of the team shouted at Kevin that he needed to get his head in the game and Arnold continued.  
  
“No. They didn’t. These Wildcat legends became legends because they never took their eye off the prize.”  
  
The team repeated their mantra.  
  
“Now, who was the first sophomore ever to make starting varsity?”  
  
Before Kevin could reply, the rest of the team supplied the answer for him: “Kevin!”  
  
“ _So_ ,” continued Arnold. “Who voted him our team captain this year?”  
  
“Us!” confirmed the team proudly.  
  
“ _And_ ,” Arnold pushed on, nearing his point. “Who is gonna get their sorry butts kicked in Friday’s championship game if Kev’s worried about a song?”  
  
The team shifted uncomfortably and their response came sullenly. “We are…”  
  
Kevin shook his head, almost laughing though the situation was quite serious.  
  
“Guys, come on,” he all but begged. “There’s twelve of us on this team, not just me.”  
  
“Just twelve?” Arnold asked, raising his brows. Kevin squinted at him, not quite sure where he was going with this. “I think you’re forgetting about one very thirteenth member of our squad.”  
  
Kevin looked up to the Heavens—Arnold was either about to acknowledge God and Kevin wanted to beat him to it, or Kevin was going to have to ask God for a little more patience as Arnold commented that something like the Force was also a prominent member of their team.  
  
Kevin was wrong as Arnold did neither of those things and instead held up a picture of Coach Price.  
  
“My dad,” Kevin said, looking at it.  
  
“Yeah, buddy,” Arnold agreed. “Brandon Price. Wildcat basketball champion, class of 1981. Champion, father, and now coach. That’s a winning tradition like no other.”  
  
Kevin felt guilt stirring in his stomach as he looked down at the picture of a high-school age version of his father. It was like a mirror.  
  


In the science lab, Chris was working his side of the plan on Connor. He had constructed a Powerpoint presentation that Gotswana Bibodi, another member of the Decathlon team, was operating as Chris spoke to the summoned Connor. Connor kept glancing at the clock, fretting that he was going to be late for his rehearsal with Nabulungi.  
  
“From lowly Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon,” _click._ Early humanoid creatures carrying clubs appeared on the screen. “To early warriors,” _click_. Ancient gladiators in the midst of battling in the Colosseum. “Medieval knights,” _click_. An army of armored men on horses raising the weapons high in the air. “All leading up to the lunkhead basketball man.” _Click._ A picture of Kevin photoshopped to have his head enlarged. Connor huffed out a laugh at it because he just looked so ridiculous.  
  
Chris cleared his throat and continued on his prepared speech, becoming more passionate about the topic. “Our culture has worshipped the aggressor throughout the ages and we’ve ended up with spoiled, overpaid, bonehead athletes who contribute little to the world except in the way of slam dunks and touchdowns!”  
  
David Neeley patted Chris’s back so he could calm himself a little bit before continuing. When Chris finally brought himself to speak again, he spoke reverently.  
  
“But the path of the _mind_ ,” he exhumed, “the path that _we’re_ on, ours is the path that has brought us these people.” He nodded to Gotswana to click once more and several articles came up in succession as Chris listed off geniuses through history: Einstein, Roosevelt, Kahlo, Curie, da Vinci, Tesla, Hawking, Oprah, and so many others.  
  
Connor carefully started inching his way towards the door as he excused himself. He only got a few steps away when he was stopped short by Chris shouting his name.  
  
“Kevin Price is one side of evolution. Our side, the side of education and accomplishment, is the future of civilization!” Chris impressed upon Connor as best as he could. Connor frowned as Chris gestured around the room, with a wide smile. “This side is where you belong.”  
  
Connor looked around the room, hoping that the frantic racing of his mind was held back behind his face. Chris subtly checked his watch as Connor tried to plan an escape. He quietly continued to the next step and fussed with his laptop and Connor’s retreat came to an immediate halt as Kevin’s face flickered onto the laptop screen.  
  
“Kevin?” Connor asked, looking at the screen in confusion. He looked around at his friends as the boy on the screen began to speak.  
  
“ _Man, I’m for the team!_ ” he assured someone off-screen. “ _I’ve always been for the team._ ”  
  
“ _But suddenly this **guy?** And the singing?_ ” prompted an off-screen voice. Connor felt a twinge in his heart at being mentioned. Worse yet was Kevin’s response. He laughed in exasperation. He _laughed_.  
  
“ _He’s just someone I met._ ” Connor’s heart sank into his stomach and he didn’t know why. Sure, he had gotten ridiculously attached to his friendship with Kevin in the few short weeks he’d known him, but it wasn’t as though there was any reason for his heart to break over it. “ _The singing thing is **nothing**. It’s probably just some nerves thing. I don’t know. It means **nothing** to me. You’re my guys and this is our team. Connor’s not important._ ” Okay, that stung. “ _I’ll forget about him. I’ll forget the audition and we’re going to go out and get that championship. Everyone happy?_ ”  
  
The team may have been, but Connor had never felt less happy. Chris closed the laptop with a sympathetic look.  
  
“Behold,” he said softly, placing his hand in the center of Connor’s back. “Lunkhead basketball man.” Connor’s breath hitched but he refused to let his emotions get the best of him.  
  
“So? What do you say?” Gotswana asked eagerly.  
  
“We’d love to have you for scholastic decathlon,” Chris agreed with a small smile. Connor thought it over, staring at the closed laptop. Almost inaudibly, he agreed.  
  
“I should go,” he murmured and walked out of the classroom only to almost immediately run into the last person he wanted to see: Kevin Price.  
  
“Hey!” Kevin beamed. Connor set his jaw. “Hey, listen. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”  
  
Connor swallowed his emotions and stated evenly, “And here it is. I know what it’s like to carry a load with your friends. I get it. You’ve got your boys, Kev. It’s okay. So we’re good.”  
  
With that, Connor started down the hall, expecting that to be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately, Kevin quickly caught up with him and asked for some clarification.  
  
“Good about what? I was going to talk to you about the final callbacks.”  
  
“I don’t want to do them either,” Connor said. It was a lie but what was the point of performing a duet by yourself? “Who are we trying to kid? You have your team and I have mine. I’ll do the scholastic decathlon and you’ll go out and win that championship. It’s where we belong.” Connor dug in his bag for the sheet music, crisp and neat. Bitterly, and his voice threatening to crack, he ended the conversation officially with “Go Wildcats.”


	11. The Apology

The interaction with Connor had thrown Kevin completely for a loop. He was more distracted than he had ever been when he was thinking about the musical. He was missing baskets he could have made blindfolded. He felt distanced from his team and couldn’t practice with them without feeling that whatever had happened with Connor was somehow their fault.  
  
The day after their falling out, Kevin never felt Connor’s presence so strongly. It was bizarre. No one had ever affected him like this and he couldn’t put a name to it but he felt sickened by their distance. He didn’t understand what he had done but the way Connor had acted was like he had punched him.  
  
During free period, Kevin took to the science club roof again to clear his head. He would review everything he had done to Connor to see if there was anything he could apologize for to get them back on good terms. He heard footsteps and he leapt to his feet, secretly hoping that it was Connor and disappointed when it turned out to be a handful of his teammates—Arnold, James, Middala, Colin, Michael and Brian.  
  
“Oh. Hi,” he said, putting in the minimal amount of effort to seem interested in their arrival. He sat back down, looking away from his friends.  
  
“Hey, we uh…had another team meeting,” Arnold explained and he sat down beside his best friend.  
  
“Wonderful,” Kevin groaned. That had worked out so well the last time.  
  
“Yeah we uh…we kinda realized we haven’t been acting much like a team,” he clarified.  
  
“Us, not you,” James jumped in, just to be sure that Kevin didn’t misinterpret the statement.  
  
“Yeah, about this singing thing,” Arnold continued.  
  
“Stop,” Kevin commanded, closing his eyes.  
  
“But-”  
  
“Just stop. Look, I don’t even want to talk about it.” He already lost one friend over it, he didn't need to lose the rest of them. He started to push past them to go back down into the main building since his private thinking place was no longer private. Arnold grabbed onto his arm and stopped him from descending.  
  
“No, buddy! You don’t even know what we’re going to say!”  
  
Kevin sighed and turned around with his arms folded across his chest, impatiently waiting for what Arnold could _possibly_ have to say.  
  
“We’re gonna be there.” Kevin raised his eyebrows at Arnold, not fully believing him. He turned to James, to Middala, to Brian, Michael, Colin, to anyone who wasn’t a nearly compulsive liar.  
  
“We’ll be there, cheering for you,” Middala promised with a firm nod. “Because if singing is something you want to do, we should be boosting you up, not tearing you down.”  
  
“Exactly,” added Arnold. “Win or lose, we’re teammates. And _we’re_ best friends!” He wrapped his arms tightly around Kevin. “So we’ve got your back! Even if you turn out to be the worst singer in the whole world.”  
  
“Which we don’t know because we’ve never actually heard you sing,” pointed out Brian, joining the conversation.  
  
Kevin groaned and shook his head. “You’re not going to, either,” he griped. “Because Connor’s not talking to me, and I don’t know why.”  
  
All of his friends exchanged uneasy looks of guilt. They indicated that Arnold should take the lead again since Kevin was closest to him and thus less likely to take out his anger.  
  
“Uh, well, about that,” Arnold said uneasily, scratching at the back of his head. “We do.”  
  
Kevin stared around at all of them, comprehending what Arnold just revealed. James quickly dug into his lunch bag and handed Kevin a couple of cookies wrapped in ClingWrap.  
  
“You may want to try these before we say anything else,” he explained. “It’s kind of a peace offering.”  
  


Meanwhile, after seeing the negative effect that their prank of sorts had had on Connor and his happiness, Chris felt guilt weigh heavily upon him and knew that he had to make things right again. He found Connor in the science lab working on an equation at the board, undoubtedly practicing for the decathlon.  
  
“Connor!” Chris eagerly approached with the team in tow. He grabbed his friend’s hands and pulled him away from the chalkboard. “Connor, we need to tell you something,”  
  
Connor sighed and looked around at the Decathlon team and their guilty faces.  
  
“We were jerks,” Chris apologized earnestly. “But we were worse than jerks because we were _mean_ jerks.” The team nodded in agreement, sorrowful over their involvement.  
  
“We thought that singing with Kevin Price was ruining our chances of having you on the team,” Chris explained.  
  
“Guys, I heard what he said,” Connor rebutted, shaking his head at them. “I’m on your team now. It’s done.”  
  
“No, not done,” implored Chris. He just needed to get Connor to listen to him. “That video we showed you yesterday, we knew that Arnold could get Kevin to say things to make you want to forget the callbacks. We planned it, we’re embarrassed, and we’re sorry.”  
  
The rest of the team chorused their own apologies. They hadn’t thought that it would cause this much anguish for Connor.  
  
“No one _made_ Kevin say those things,” Connor pointed out. He bolstered himself up with a deep breath. “And you know what? It’s fine. We should be preparing for the decathlon. It’s time to move on.”  
  
“No, it’s not okay!” Chris groaned. “The decathlon is whatever. But how you feel about us, and even more, Kevin-” Connor tensed up. _How he **felt** about Kevin? He…he **didn’t** feel about Kevin. Not like **that.**_ “That’s what really matters.”  
  
Connor fixed them with an apathetic stare and turned back to the board to continue solving the equation.  
  
Disappointed, Chris turned to his teammates and, with a shrug, said that they had tried their best.  
  


After Kevin heard of what his supposed friends had done, he was irate. But he didn’t have any time to waste on them because he needed to make sure Connor understood what had happened and forgave him for the things he had said and that Connor had no doubt heard out of context. He tried multiple times during the school day to talk to him only to receive the cold shoulder in response. The last resort was to find Connor’s address and ambush him there, and that was exactly what Kevin had no choice but to do.  
  
He approached the pristine home with due apprehension. If Connor answered, the door would immediately be slammed in his face. But if Mr. or Mrs. McKinley answered, how could he possibly explain this?  
  
He arrived on the doorstep and, as though already on his mission, he straightened up, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. If he could convince the parents of a boy who no doubt _hated_ him to allow him entrance, then surely selling non-Mormons on the scripture would be a piece of cake.  
  
Kevin had been too busy fantasizing about his future mission to prepare what he was going to say to Connor’s parent when the door opened if indeed it was a parent who opened it. Unfortunately for him, it was Mrs. McKinley. As much as Kevin thought he looked like his own father, Connor was almost a carbon copy of his mother. Or what his mother must have looked like when she was younger since her hair had lost some luster due to graying and her face had accumulated some cheery wrinkles about the eyes.  
  
“Hello?” she asked kindly although confused by the boy’s appearance on her doorstep.  
  
“Hi, Mrs. McKinley,” Kevin greeted cheerfully. “I’m Kevin Price.”  
  
The woman’s demeanor faltered slightly. _Ah. So Connor **had** told his parents._  
  
“Connor’s kind of busy with homework right now so it’s not a good time,” Mrs. McKinley explained, ushering him away. Kevin backed up off the doorstep but made a request.  
  
“I…I made a big mistake the other day, Mrs. McKinley, and would really like to let Connor know that.” Mrs. McKinley frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. _How much did Connor say?_ “Could you let him know that I stopped by?”  
  
“Of course,” she promised in a tone indicating that letting Connor know was the last thing she was going to do. Kevin nodded and wished her a good night before heading on his way.  
  
Kevin crossed off the McKinley family’s property before turning back to look at the house. There _had_ to be another way to get to Connor since Mrs. McKinley apparently held her son’s grudge.  
  
Inspired, Kevin pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Connor’s number. As the phone rang, he snuck back onto the property to look for Connor’s room. He knew trespassing was wrong but it was for a good reason and he was sure he could justify it to Heavenly Father.  
  
The phone rang against his ear and he saw a light flicker on in a room on the second floor. He would have to climb in order to get to Connor, and it would be worth it. The phone stopped ringing and Kevin sighed. He redialed, hoping that Connor would answer this time.  
  
“What is it, Kevin?” Connor asked.  
  
“What you heard, none of that is true,” Kevin assured urgently. “I was just sick of my friends riding me about singing with you, so I said things I knew would shut them up. I promise I didn’t mean any of it.”  
  
“Well, you sounded pretty convincing to me,” Connor scoffed. Kevin looked around for a ladder, stairs, or any way to climb up to Connor’s window.  
  
“You remember the guy you met on vacation?” he asked as he surveyed the land. It looked like the only way up was a tree. “That guy is _way_ more me than the guy who said those things yesterday.”  
  
He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he carefully began to climb the tree, gripping for knots and branches as he listened to Connor’s explanation on the other end of the line.  
  
“Kevin, the whole singing thing is making the whole school crazy,” he sighed. Kevin grunted as he struggled with a particularly hard knot but it sounded like an assent to Connor. “You said so yourself. Everybody’s treating you differently because of it.”  
  
“Yeah, they can’t handle that I don’t want to be _just_ the basketball guy. I can be the basketball guy _and_ the singing guy.” Just over half-way there. He could make it. “That’s not my problem. It’s theirs.”  
  
“Yeah?” Connor asked skeptically. “What about your dad?”  
  
“It’s not about my dad,” Kevin burst. “This is about how I feel! And I’m not letting the team down, they let me down. So, I’m going to sing. What about you?”  
  
Connor was stunned in silence. Kevin felt something, he didn’t know what but it was _something_ , for him. He didn't know how to handle that.  
  
“I…I don’t know,” Connor whispered into the phone, cupping it to his mouth as though someone besides Kevin could hear. “I don’t know, Kevin.”  
  
“Well, you need to say yes,” Kevin said with a huge sigh of relief. “Because I brought you something.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Connor laughed.  
  
“Turn around.”  
  
And Connor turned around and looked out his window to see Kevin Price perching on a thick branch of the tree outside. He opened the window and stared at Kevin in shock.  
  
“Why the heck are you in a tree?” he asked. When he heard his own voice echo back from Kevin’s phone, that served as the reminder to hang up.  
  
Kevin didn’t answer the question but instead cleared his throat and began to sing.  
  
“ _This could be the start of something new._  
_It feels so right to be here with you._  
_Oh, now looking in your eyes,_  
_I feel in my heart_  
_The start of something_ -”  
  
He cut off and blinked a few times, as if realizing there was truth behind the lyrics. He continued softly, more spoken than sung. “New.”  
  
“Kevin,” Connor breathed as a small, sentimental smile spread across his face when he recognized the song: the first thing he and Kevin had sung together, all those weeks ago at the ski lodge. He forced the grin away. He couldn’t…he couldn’t go back to the life he’d had in Provo. “Kevin, I…”  
  
“It’s a pairs audition,” Kevin cut Connor off. “It sounds better with you in it.”  
  
Connor reached out to offer his hands to Kevin. It wasn’t too far from his window to the tree and, honestly, Kevin probably could pull himself in but a couple of helping hands are always nice.  
  
“Stairs are a bit easier,” Connor laughed. Kevin took his hands and the pair of them worked together to bring Kevin into the house and sneak him out the front door past Connor’s mother.


	12. The Rearrangement

Neither Kevin nor Connor had ever been as successful in their fields as they had been after making up with each other. They thrived on the court, in the lab, _and_ in rehearsals with Nabulungi. Their respective teams supported their time constraints—and Kevin’s went the extra mile in distracting Coach Price from Kevin’s absence when he was running a few minutes late from rehearsal to practice.  
  
The only thing that was working against the pair was their competition: the Jacobs. One day, they happened to pass by the room where Nabulungi was rehearsing with Kevin and Connor.  
  
“They sound good,” Jacob Brown praised, bopping along to the song. Disgusted with his friend’s admiration, Jacob Grant flicked his ear in punishment. The worst part was that Jacob wasn’t even wrong.  
  
“We _have_ to do something,” Jacob Grant griped. Kevin and Connor could have a real shot of beating them out for the leads. He thought aloud as he paced by the classroom door. “Okay, so the callbacks are on Thursday and the basketball game and the scholastic decathlon are on Friday.” His eyes lit up with a brilliant scheme. “Too bad all these events weren’t happening on the same day…at the same time.”  
  
Jacob Brown frowned at his friend, not comprehending the full intent of the plan.  
  
“That wouldn’t work,” he pointed out. “Kevin and Connor wouldn’t be able to make the…” He trailed off and Jacob Grant prompted him to keep talking because he would eventually get to the point of the idea. “Oh!”  
  
“Yeah,” Jacob Grant bragged, brushing invisible dirt off of his shoulder. “Let’s go.”  
  
Together, they went down to Mrs. Brown’s office to see if they could get the callbacks changed to one day later. Jacob Grant enlisted all of his acting abilities and broke down sobbing in the office as he explained that his uncle had died and that his funeral was going to be on Thursday so could she please, please, _please_ move the callbacks to Friday? Moved to kindness by Jacob Grant’s situation, and never one to deny her students something they needed, she agreed.  
  


The next day, the call board had been updated. Nabulungi stared at the added paper in defeat. She had worked so hard with Kevin and Connor to perfect their song and she also had a lot riding on dethroning the Jacobs.  
  
As luck would have it, the newly chummy basketball and decathlon teams were heading down the hall.  
  
“Oh! Arnold!” Nabulungi cried out, stopping them in their tracks.  
  
Arnold, shocked by having the girl he secretly had a crush on speak to him directly, didn’t know how to react.  
  
“Oh, hi! Hi! Uh, hi. Hi, Nabba….Nabba-dabba-doo.” He closed his eyes tightly and willed his mouth to, for once in his life, stop.  
  
“Arnold, look,” she deflated, pointing to the signage. The rest of the team huddled around the paper and saw the change. When Kevin and Connor came down the hall together, close together and talking quietly, and spotted their friends causing a minor blockage in the hall, they joined the group to see the cause. Both their hearts dropped.  
  
“Callbacks the same time as the game?” Kevin asked, as though reading the words aloud would change them.  
  
“And the decathlon,” added Connor sadly.  
  
“Why would they do that?” Chris demanded, looking around at both teams. Although he hadn’t always been in support of Connor’s auditioning, he was now upset that someone else was getting in the way of it. James gently placed his hand on Chris’s shoulder to calm him.  
  
“I smell a rat named Brown,” Arnold grimaced. Mrs. Brown probably hated that Kevin had even auditioned in the first place. This was just her trying to make sure her musical stayed pure.  
  
“I think you’re right,” Nabulungi agreed with a nod. Arnold became flustered by her assent and huffed a couple of times, his breaths probably meant to be words. “But I don’t think it’s the one _you_ think.”  
  
“What do you know about this?” Chris urged Nabulungi, stepping towards her. Nabulungi countered by taking a step back, pressing her back against the call board. James casually maneuvered Chris a few steps away from Nabulungi, guiding him by the shoulders.  
  
“I think,” Nabulungi began once Chris had stepped out of her personal bubble, “Mrs. Brown might think she’s protecting the show, but the Jacobs are only concerned with protecting themselves.”  
  
“I’m gonna go full TMNT on them!” Arnold declared. How dare they mess with his best friend’s happiness like that.  
  
“Okay, I don’t know what that is but no you’re not,” Kevin sighed. Arnold deflated. He had really been looking forward to that. “No one is going to do anything to them.” Kevin glanced at Connor. “Except sing. Maybe. But that’s only going to happen if we all work together. Now, who’s in?”  
  
He reached into the center of the group and placed his hand in the air, hovering there. Connor immediately placed his hand on top. Then Chris, then James, then Arnold and Nabulungi, and slowly but surely all of them had their hands in the pile, solidifying themselves as one singular team. They would overcome this set-back together.


	13. The Big Day

The decathlon and basketball teams had worked tirelessly in order to figure out a way for Kevin and Connor to be in two places at the same time. After a while, they had devised a plan that they were confident would fit the bill. When the day came, they were in full support of each other and the drama club as well, and to prove it, they presented the others with gifts as soon as the school day was over. James had baked a cherry pie with the pi symbol on it for the decathletes; Sadaka, the most artistic of the decathlon team, drew a wildcat dunking a basketball on the back of a reversible chalkboard (they first presented the team with an equation tracking the trajectory of the ball on the other side of the board and the team had really tried to be appreciative of it before they flipped the board over to reveal the true present); the basketball team even showed their support for the drama club by preparing T-shirts with letters arranging themselves to spell out ‘Go Drama Club!’ Everyone except for the Jacobs appreciated the gesture.  
  
After bestowing their gifts, Kevin and the rest of the team hurried down to the gym to prepare for the game. The decathletes rushed to the largest classroom on campus where the competition had been organized. The Jacobs headed to the auditorium to prepare for their callback, confident that their plan was going to prevail.  
  


The gym was filled to the brim with spectators. In the locker room, the boys were psyching themselves up for the big game. Kevin sat on the bench, going over the plays as well as the plan, making sure everything was in place. His thoughts were interrupted by Coach Price suddenly plopping down beside him.  
  
“Oh, hi,” Kevin said, straightening up and refocusing, embarrassed to be caught with his head in the clouds.  
  
“How’re you feeling, son?” It was a warm, affectionate greeting. Clearly things had smoothed over between the Prices.  
  
Kevin nodded at his father, not entirely sure how he felt. His mouth decided it knew better than his brain as it admitted, “Nervous,” without consulting his brain first. Coach Price affectionately pounded on his son's back.  
  
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Coach Price asked if Kevin knew what he expected out of him for the day.  
  
“The championship,” Kevin affirmed with a nod. That was the whole reason he had been so upset at Kevin for singing with Connor in the first place.  
  
“Well,” Coach said with a sigh. “That’ll come or it won’t. What I want is for you to have fun.” Kevin squinted at his father in suspicion. Was this a test? “I know all about the pressure. And probably too much of it has come from me. What I really want is to see my son having the time of his life playing the game we both love. You give me that, and I’ll sleep with a smile on my face no matter how the score comes out.”  
  
Kevin sat in stunned silence for a moment. Had he imagined that moment? When Coach Price wrapped his arms around Kevin’s shoulders, that was when he knew that it was real.  
  
“Thanks, Coach,” Kevin said, still in shock. “Um, I mean, Dad.”  
  
“C’mon, let’s get out there,” Mr. Price smiled at his son as the game announcer started the speech introducing the teams.  
  
The game flew by, the team working together as never before. After the collaborative efforts that they had put forth in order to get Kevin to that callback, they were practically thinking in unison and moving in tandem.  
  
In the auditorium on the opposite side of the school, Jacob and Jacob were singing and dancing their hearts out. They were accompanied by another pre-recorded arrangement of the song while Nabulungi sat helplessly at the piano waiting for their bop to be finished. She anxiously checked the clock, worried that the plan might not work after all.  
  
Meanwhile, the decathlon team was having just as much success as the basketball team. They were flying through equations but not sacrificing quality work. After a particularly difficult equation that Connor solved, earning East High the winning point, he checked his watch. No time to celebrate their victory. He nodded at Chris, who opened his laptop.  
  
“Alright, Wildcats,” he murmured, typing a couple of phrases. “Time for an orderly exit from the gym.”  
  
He swiftly hit ‘enter’ and the effects were immediate. In the gymnasium, the scoreboard went on the fritz. The lights faltered and the buzzer sounded of its own accord. Everyone looked around in confusion, a little frightened of what was happening. The referee called for a stop to the game due to it and the spectators, in varying stages of confusion and panic, made their way towards the door. Under the cover of the herd of fans, Kevin slipped out in order to make it to the auditorium.  
  
Then, Connor had to slip out of the decathlon. Chris’s devised distraction was a little more destructive than the malfunctioning scoreboard he had rigged in the gym. He winked to Neeley, who discreetly poured a blue liquid into a vial over a Bunsen burner. Over the course of a few minutes, a foul smell started to fill the air. With this distraction causing a ruckus amidst the competition and spectators—granted, fewer than had gathered in the gymnasium but still a sizable number—Connor snuck out, undetected.  
  


The pair met at the entrance to the auditorium, both out of breath and flushed from their run.  
  
“Hey,” Kevin panted. “You, uh, you ready?”  
  
“As soon as I catch my breath,” Connor replied with a laugh.  
  
But they didn’t have the time. Without waiting the minute it would take for them to regain enough control to perform, they rushed into the auditorium, proclaiming that they were there and ready to sing. The auditorium was occupied by only two very smug-looking Jacobs and Mrs. Brown. Kevin frowned as he searched for Nabulungi.  
  
“I called your names,” Mrs. Brown shrugged. “Twice.”  
  
“Mrs. Brown, please!” Connor begged, stepping forward. “ _Please!_ ”  
  
“Rules are rules and rules must be adhered to!” Mrs. Brown insisted.  
  
As she spoke, the spectators from the other two events, seeking refuge from the bizarre occurrences at their previous venus, filed into the auditorium, effectively filling the house. It was the biggest crowd the auditorium had seen in years.  
  
Jacob Grant bustled forward, eager to perform again for a packed house. He suggested zealously that he and Jacob Brown do an encore of their callback number, this time for their newly captive audience. Mrs. Brown dismissed this suggestion with a flippant wave of her hand. She had the more important issue of Kevin Price to deal with.  
  
“Now, I don’t know what’s going on here, but it is too late and we haven’t got the pianist,” she insisted, hoping that would put an end to Kevin’s foolishness.  
  
Jacob Brown shrugged insincerely at the boys.  
  
“Ah well,” he sighed. “That’s show biz.”  
  
Connor deflated. They had worked too hard for it to come to this.  
  
“We’ll sing without a piano,” Kevin insisted. He wasn’t about to give up on this. It was important to Connor and Connor was important to him.  
  
Nabulungi, apparently having only been hiding out backstage until she calmed down from the stress of having to work with the Jacobs, raced onto the scene.  
  
“No, you won’t,” she assured with a bright smile. “Pianist here, Mrs. Brown.”  
  
Jacob Grant, seeing that Nabulungi was about to ruin his chance at getting the role that was rightfully his, stepped towards her menacingly. He blocked her path to the piano and glared down at her.  
  
“You _really_ don’t want to do that,” he threatened.  
  
Although in all of her history with Jacob Grant, Nabulungi had always deferred and shrank back, anticipating his abuse, this time she stood tall. She set her jaw and, with a defiant quirk of her eyebrow, she responded simply: “Oh yes, I really do.” She breezed past him and set up at the piano, calling out when she was ready to accompany the boys whenever they were ready to sing.  
  
Kevin and Connor climbed onto the stage in preparation. They had sung this song a million times and they could do it. They _would_ do it. Nabulungi began playing the introductory music and Kevin opened his mouth to sing the first lines only to see Connor staring at the massive audience out of the corner of his eye, completely frozen.  
  
Worried about his friend, Kevin indicated for Nabulungi to cut the music and she did so on a sour chord.  
  
“Hey, Connor?” Kevin whispered and gently touched Connor’s shoulder. “Con? You okay?”  
  
Connor mutely shook his head, prompting Kevin to ask what was the matter.  
  
“I can’t do it,” Connor squeaked, shaking his head fervently. “I can’t, Kevin. Not with all these people staring at me.”  
  
He appeared near tears and he tried to escape the situation from running off the stage, but Kevin stopped him with a simple touch on the cheek. He didn’t consider the implications of the action or of doing it in front of, effectively, the whole school; he just did it.  
  
“Hey,” Kevin responded softly, in a voice near a whisper. “Hey, look at me, look at me.” Connor finally looked into Kevin’s eyes. “There you are.” He smiled at Connor and got one in response. “It’s just you and me, okay? Just like the first time we sang, right? Like…like kindergarten.”  
  
Kevin’s short speech touched Connor’s heart and swayed him to give the song another chance. He nodded to Nabulungi, who started the accompaniment over again. This time, they sang. They sang and they forgot about the hundreds of eyes fixed on them. They focused only on each other and, no matter what the results were, they knew that they had a wonderful time singing together.  
  
When they finished the song, gazing into each other’s eyes and standing closer to each other than they had ever planned, they were pulled back to reality by the thunderous applause that erupted. They finally acknowledged the existence of all of the people who watched them perform, laughing at the fact that they had so effectively shut them out for three and a half minutes. Kevin’s joy faded slightly as he caught sight of his father staring up at him. All at once, a million questions flooded Kevin’s mind: _How long had he been there? Had he liked what he saw? Had he **hated** it? What was he going to say?_  
  
“I guess it’s time to get back to what you do best,” Connor breathed with a smile, acknowledging the fact that he too saw the coach in the crowd. “Sorry to interrupt.”  
  
“Oh uh,” Kevin cleared his throat, continuing to look at his father. Maybe it was the distance, but he could have sworn he saw him _smiling_. “Any…anytime.”  
  


It had indeed been time to return to ‘what he did best,’ and he proved that by leading the East High Wildcats to their first championship victory in years. The crowds went wild and the team went even wilder. They hoisted Kevin, holding the championship trophy above his head for all to see, onto their shoulders as Arnold led them in their team chant.  
  
“What team?”  
  
“Wildcats!”  
  
“What team?”  
  
“Wildcats!”  
  
“What team?”  
  
“Wildcats!”  
  
“ _Wildcats!_ ”  
  
“Get your head in the game!”  
  
They let Kevin down when they saw their coach approaching. Surely he would want to talk to Kevin—whether it be as Father to Son or Coach to Captain, no one could guess. When Mr. Price gave Kevin a great big hug and declared that he was immensely proud of him, the doubt fizzled away. Mrs. Brown interrupted the family reunion to congratulate the coach on his excellent direction.  
  
As soon as Mr. Price was occupied, Connor appeared out of the woodwork and dragged Kevin away from his father, holding him in a tight embrace.  
  
“Congratulations, Wildcat!” he shouted above the rest of the cheering.  
  
“What abut your team?” Kevin asked in response, leaning in to hear Connor a little bit better.  
  
“We won too!”  
  
“Oh my God! Connor, that’s great!”  
  
Without really thinking about what he was doing—maybe he was just caught up in the exuberance of it all? Maybe he was trying to be sure he could hear Connor loud and clear?—Kevin leaned in further, his head tilting slightly of its own accord.  
  
Whatever mistake—or _was_ it a mistake? His heart pounded out of his chest in a way that was decidedly positive—he was about to make was circumvented by Arnold Cunningham popping up between the two boys and asking loudly if Kevin was gay now.  
  
Kevin rolled his eyes and asked if that was all Arnold wanted to discuss, avoiding the topic altogether.  
  
“Oh! Right!” He held out the basketball he held under his arm. “Team voted you the game ball, Captain!”  
  
Kevin smiled and nodded placatingly before passing it off to Chris Thomas for safekeeping, who happened to be passing by at the time. Chris stared at it in confusion. What was he supposed to do with this? James approached him and pulled him through the crowd because he “wanted to show him something,” which turned out to be how to shoot a basket.  
  
Connor, having read Kevin’s signal before the interruption, initiated the kiss this time, only to be interrupted by Arnold for a _second_ time. They sprang apart, Connor more embarrassed and Kevin more confused by his body’s inclinations than before. Arnold either hadn’t noticed their gayer position or was too preoccupied to care and as soon as he opened his mouth, it was clear it was the latter.  
  
“I got a date!” he exclaimed. “With Nabapirogi!”  
  
“That’s great, Arnold,” Kevin nodded enthusiastically. Though he doubted it, maybe Nabulungi could help him mellow out a little bit.  
  
The world celebrated around them and there they stood, two Mormon boys, slightly confused about the extent of their feelings for each other and scared to try to kiss again so they settled for holding each other intimately in the middle of it all. If everyone else’s emotions hadn’t been running just as high, maybe someone would have noticed them. But no one did and they were happy.


End file.
